


Imperial drabbles

by Sithy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Cuddling, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Lace Panties, M/M, Multi, Shameless Smut, Slow Build, shared showers, thigh highs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2018-07-25 21:25:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 43,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7547764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sithy/pseuds/Sithy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles rating from Gen to Explicit, featuring Thrawn/Pellaeon with cameos from various of our favourite Imperials.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 - Fixation - General

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chissprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chissprincess/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Имперские драбблы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14067336) by [Eleonora_Alva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eleonora_Alva/pseuds/Eleonora_Alva)



> Thank you to chissprincess,  
> for over a decade of fangirling,  
> and we still find new stuff to scream about
> 
> CELEBRATE GOOD TIMES COME ON  
> http://www.starwars.com/news/qa-with-timothy-zahn

**Fixation – General**

Sure, it had all started with an innocent and proper goal, he’d been quick to tell himself. It wasn’t every day the last (and most unusual) of the Empire’s Grand Admirals took command and it was only proper for the ship’s captain to keep an eye on him.

On _all_ of him.

It had nothing to do with Pellaeon discovering a not-very-professional interest in the Grand Admiral’s lips and the things he could probably do with them. Or his sudden fascination with the Grand Admiral’s hands, long fingers fiddling with a pen or scratching a Ysalamir’s fur. Or, the Force take him, his sudden awareness of seeing how well that uniform fit and how well it accentuated certain parts of Thrawn. He’d honestly spent more time than was healthy on fantasizing about Thrawn in all sorts of situations. Situations that had absolutely nothing to do with their mission, but everything to do with this sudden…infatuation or whatever it was.

Pellaeon mentally shook himself. The officer’s mess was not the place for his fantasies. He wasn’t some fresh cadet. He’d get over this weird crush, they were working on retaking the Imperial territories for Force’s sake. Tonight he’d take (yet another) cold shower and he was determined to make it through dinner without having his mind wander.

“Ooooh, look!” Maximilian Veers’ voice rang out from the other side of the table. “They’re serving Blicci fruit today!” he positively cheered, beaming at Pellaeon. Right. He may or may not have told Max about his struggles after a few too many drinks. Now, Max knew Blicci fruit was a particularly juicy fruit best eaten carefully to avoid—

Ah.

AH.

No one had informed the Grand Admiral of the specific issues concerning Blicci fruit, it seemed. Judging by the juice now slowly dripping over his hand, he’d bitten down right into it. That wasn’t what got Pellaeon feeling both terribly turned on and desiring to make a quick exit though. No, that was caused entirely by the Grand Admiral calmly licking the juice from his fingers.

And blast if those strange red eyes didn’t meet his, one eyebrow quirking and one side of his mouth moving up ever so slightly.

Vader take the man. He _knew_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veers is the VERY LOUD VERY SUPPORTIVE friend. He will fight you if you speak badly about Pellaeon or Thrawn. Bless this man.
> 
> So, I have a lot more headcanons, and will try to get over my publishing shyness and update this :)  
> Find me at Tumblr: mssithy.tumblr.com  
> Very happy to discuss prompts, beta stuff or just scream endlessly about Thrawn, the Empire etc  
> Next up: Explicit Thrawn/Pellaeon/pretty lace stuff


	2. 2 - Pretty in lace – Explicit – Thrawn/Pellaeon/a nice pair of underwear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to ibreathethroughwords and sailboatsupernova for awakening the ‘Thrawn/Pellaeon/nice underwear’ feelings inside me. The feelings cannot sleep any longer. (Read my awakening [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1899741/chapters/4095312) and [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2566901/chapters/15744010), you won't regret it!)

" _Fuck_ " the word escaped him as soon as he'd stepped into the Grand Admiral's (their!) bedroom.

"That would hopefully be the outcome of tonight" Thrawn said matter of factly, stretching out on the bed and smirking at Pellaeon. Gilad, meanwhile, was trying to catch his breath and pinched himself. There was no way this was real. He had to be hallucinating from the long shift at the bridge because right in front of him, on his (their!) bed, was the Grand Admiral...in lace thigh highs and lace panties, shimmering black over blue skin.

Force if it wasn't the hottest thing Pellaeon had ever seen. It should be illegal for a man to look that good in lace. Hell, there should be some sort of law against Grand Admirals seducing their Captains because surely one day, he'd not recover.

Thrawn eyed him from the bed, clearly satisfied with his reaction. "So, Captain, will you stand there all night or would you also like to take a closer look?" still in that calm, collected voice. How did he stay so calm while he knew he was all of Pellaeon's fantasies come true? Suddenly, Pellaeon wanted nothing more than to break that calm and hear that voice shake with want. His arousal almost painful, he moved to the bed. Thrawn gave him another grin and rolled over to lie on his stomach. Pellaeon felt his mouth go dry.

He reached a shaking hand towards one lace covered calf. Slowly, almost reverently, he ran his hands over the material, feeling the heat of Thrawn's warmer-than-human skin underneath. Growing more confident, he reached to take Thrawn's ankle in his hands and nuzzled his foot, feeling the lace on his cheeks, on his lips. An almost inaudible sigh from the Grand Admiral spurred him on. Boldly, he massaged the muscled thighs. 

The lace felt exquisite under his hands. No longer holding back, he roughly grabbed Thrawn by the hips, pulling him up. Thrawn looked over his shoulder, looking for something in Pellaeon's face. Apparently, he liked what he saw, as in an unusual show of obedience, he moved to sit on all fours. Pellaeon ran his hands over Thrawn's back, admiring the view. Stroking lightly over the Chiss' taut stomach, Thrawn shuddered against him. So. He _was_ just as turned on as Pellaeon. 

He moved his hand lower, teasingly. Thrawn let out an actual growl, but Pellaeon would have none of it. This was for him. Thrawn underneath him, presenting himself in nothing but those lace panties and thigh highs. This was Pellaeon's to enjoy and play with. Still moving his fingers over Thrawn's lower stomach, he unzipped his breeches with his other hand. It suddenly felt right to keep the uniform on, to be in control of the situation. 

He pulled Thrawn closer against him, making sure to press his leaking erection against the lace covered behind underneath him. He moved slightly to spread the fluids, watching them glinster on the lace. Thrawn made another growling noise and Pellaeon chuckled darkly. He wanted it, all right. He very lightly ran his fingers over the lace covered crotch. Not entirely to his surprise, the lace was moist already. Pellaeon squeezed him through the lace, earning a yelp from the alien now shuddering beneath him. 

Pellaeon slowly, ever so slowly ran his fingers over the straining cock, rubbing his own against Thrawn's backside as he did. The lace felt divine. He began to hump against Thrawn in earnest, moaning at the sensation of hot skin, lace and his own pre smearing across the material. Feeling Thrawn strain against him, he wrapped his fingers around his still clothed cock, revelling in the feel of that hard, alien dick covered in lace. Thrawn let out a low whine, which made Pellaeon's cock jump in reaction. He allowed himself to give Thrawn an appreciative squeeze. 

He rutted against Thrawn shamelessly, the slight burn of the lace adding to the pleasure. Looking down to see himself rub over the lace stretched over those tight buttocks he groaned. Stars, he wouldn't last long. Judging from Thrawn's increased moans, neither would he. Pellaeon rubbed him through the lace as he thrust harder, increasing friction and like hell he'd pay for this with a rug burn tomorrow, but it was too good to stop, too good to watch his cock rub against that ass, so perfect in its lace covering. It was too good to feel Thrawn's cock straining against its lace confines, too good to hear him gasp and feel him press his ass harder against the human's cock.  

He could swear he saw exploding stars as he came, globs of semen landing on the underwear and on Thrawn's back. Thrawn groaned his name as he, too, came in hot spurts Pellaeon felt hitting his hand through the lace. He collapsed on the bed, panting as he tried to get himself under control, Thrawn looking at him through half-closed eyes with a gentle smile on his normally impassive face. 

"You know I'll be horribly distracted tomorrow, imagining you in these?" Pellaeon asked, sleepily, after they'd cleaned up. Thrawn chuckled and tightened his hold on Pellaeon. "Who said I've never worn lace under the uniform before, my dear?" 

_Fuck_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Highway To Hell from AC/DC was playing as I wrote the final lines in this story...accurate thank you iTunes you know my sins  
> This was unbeta'd so I may go in and edit some bits and bobs (hah. bits. anyway.)
> 
> Next up, shameless cuddle fluff


	3. The Dance - General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy NaNoWriMo! I'll be aiming to write all these little scenes I've wanted to get out of there for years and may combine them in a novel. Even if I don't manage the novel part, I hope you'll enjoy all the scenes :-)  
> I'll go back and edit these after NaNo so please excuse any errors!

 

The music was right, the wine was excellent and the company pleasing. Pellaeon stretched his legs out in front of him as he watched the room. Most of the attending dignitaries had moved from the buffet table to the dance floor and were waltzing to the tones of old Corellian music. 

They’d arrived on Corellia earlier that day to discuss yet another trade agreement. As was the custom, a successful negotiation was always topped with an extensive dinner and dance. They’d dressed in their finest dress uniforms (Veers grumbling about the too tight collar) and enjoyed all the goods Corellia had to offer. It had been a good night, though Pellaeon felt it lacked one final act.

His foot tapping to the rhytmn of the music, Pellaeon’s eyes searched the room for the one missing piece to make this night perfect. Standing away from the buzz of the dance was Grand Admiral Thrawn, eyes firmly on the table in front of him. 

His husband.

It still seemed odd and new even after all those months. Of course, they’d made strict agreements to always keep a professional attitude when on duty. The time simply wasn’t right to announce their marriage to the world. Their wedding had been small and private with a handful of trusted friends. They’d kept on working as Grand Admiral and Captain, only dropping their guard once safely in their quarters.

But now, here, at his homeworld of Corellia…there was really no reason to be so secretive. Corellians wouldn’t care. Corellians wouldn’t even care if they both stripped off all their clothes and declared themselves Emperor of the Universe. (Though they’d argue on Corellia being part of that particular Empire.)

Making up his mind, he got out of the chair and walked toward Thrawn. Getting closer, he saw the Chiss wasn’t eyeing the food, but rather the elaborate tablecloth on the table. Typical. 

“Finding out all our battle secrets, are you?” he said as he stood next to Thrawn. Thrawn turned to face him and slowly lifted an eyebrow. “This happens to be a very interesting needlework piece, Captain. Notice where the shapes change here…and there.” Thrawn spoke slowly, pointing to areas Pellaeon felt all looked the same. Of course.

“Thrawn, we’re looking at a tablecloth. It doesn’t contain the secrets of all of Corellia. Also, no one here cares if you’re the intellectual Grand Admiral so you can stop acting like this interests you more than your desperate to dance husband.” Thrawn started raising an eyebrow at this again. “And don’t give me the eyebrow thing, I know Chiss actually do enjoy to dance.”

It had actually surprised Pellaeon to learn that the Chiss had a whole array of extensive, traditional dances. As much as they tried to come across as cool, businesslike people, there were beings with a rich, passionate culture underneath. Sometimes, he felt Thrawn regretted no longer being able to play his act of cool, calculating Grand Admiral. On the other hand, it was good for him to be outsmarted sometimes.

Knowing the direction Thrawn’s thoughts were going, Pellaeon reached over and squeezed his hand. “My dear. No one here cares if we dance. These are my people. They won’t mind.” The red eyes came to rest on their clasped hands. He knew what Thrawn was thinking. Though he’d pushed for change, many in the Imperial navy still felt such fraternisation was strongly against the rules. Thrawn’s sudden squeeze of his hand made him look up. Their eyes meeting, he saw a familiar gleam in those glowing eyes. 

“Okay, Gilad Pellaeon,” Thrawn said, a smile on his face. “Let’s dance, Corellian style.” Before Pellaeon had a chance to form a suitable reply, Thrawn had grabbed him by the wrist and was leading him to the dance floor. Also typical. Behind closed doors, Thrawn was happy to let Pellaeon take the lead (more than happy in fact, Pellaeon mused). In public, it seemed he was still insisting on broadcasting that Grand Admiral attitude. Pellaeon made a mental note to discuss this and—

All thoughts seemed to fly away as they reached the dance floor.

Thrawn’s firm hand at the small of his back, he was being twirled around the dance floor as if Thrawn did this daily. Thrawn’s other hand firmly clasped his as they danced. Judging by the Admiral’s slight smirk, he had probably studied all of Corellia’s dances beforehand and then some. “Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Pellaeon whispered in his ear. Thrawn chuckled “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your own people, _ch’acah_.” Pulling the Captain closer to himself, they elegantly swirled around the floor. For a moment, all of the war was forgotten. All that mattered was Thrawn’s body pressed to his as they engaged in a rare moment of just being together. 

The music slowed down to a traditional Corellian couple’s dance. Pellaeon expected Thrawn to slip away at this point, but it seemed his Chiss husband was still able to surprise him. Thrawn gently stroked his back as he swayed them together to the tones of the old classic “Oh sweet Corell moonlight”. The Chiss’ arms firmly around him, it felt as if they were alone in the room. Was he reduced to swooning like a teenage girl seeing their favourite holostar? Absolutely. Did he want it to stop? Never.

As the music reached its highlight, Thrawn’s arms tightened around him. “I’ve heard,” he started, his voice low and husky, “that traditionally, Corellians seal this dance with a kiss.” Pellaeon blinked, his head still foggy. “I’d rather like to keep that tradition” Thrawn continued, looking at Pellaeon in that way that made him feel as he himself was the nicest piece of art in the galaxy. 

Thrawn’s lips captured his in a slow, gentle kiss. He was only vaguely aware of someone wooping in the back (so that’s where Veers had been). He revelled in the feeling of that hotter than human tongue gently moving against his, exploring his mouth with gentle caresses. When Thrawn gently broke away from him, he rested his forehead against Pellaeon’s. 

“We should visit your home planet again soon.” Thrawn murmured, “I find I rather like it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "ch’acah" is Cheunh for "love"  
> Thrawn and tablecloth interest by chissprincess  
> "Too tight collar on these darn dress uniforms" sponsored by Leonard "Bones" McCoy


	4. Artwork - General

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Totally self-indulgant headcanon ahead!

The first time he sees Thrawn shirtless, it’s after a workout. Thrawn ocassionally gets it in his head his commanding officers could be in better shape and “inspires” them to work out. He mostly talks a lot about the importance of a healthy mind in a healthy body and then makes them do a ton of laps around the room. He is passionate at those times and Pellaeon would probably appreciate it a lot more if he wasn’t afraid of getting a heart attack during the workout. After one such an _inspirational_ workout Pellaeon drags himself to the dressing room expecting to be alone and lick his wounds in private. He almost runs headfirst into a very naked Thrawn (does he even consider the possibility of others walking in?) Muttering an apology and backing off, he can’t help but glance at his commanding offer and see the marks on his chest. That first time, he gets only a glimpse, but it’s enough to make him long for more.

The second time, they are on the desert planet Tatooine for some small piece of art Thrawn is reluctant to share details on. They sweat and sweat while Thrawn talks about an auction that for some reason is very important. (“Planet’s making me sweat more than Vader’s butt” Veers bellows, earning him a glare that could melt durasteel from Thrawn). They end up being so miserable, they take off their uniform jackets, Fleet dress code be damned. Pellaeon finds himself hoping Thrawn takes after Maximilian in that regard (and that regard only, he hopes!), but he does wear an undershirt. It’s enough to show off muscled arms and more marks though. He can see they’re art of their own kind. Pellaeon hungers for more, but knows to keep quiet. He’s lost promotions over love too often already.

The third time, he is a little fuzzy on the details. They win Sluis Van and there’s a party in the officer’s mess afterwards. Piett turns out to have a massive stash of alcohol and mixes drinks all evening. Pellaeon figures out Thrawn has a much higher alcohol tolerance than humans, but even he ends up being more laidback than usual. He happily accepts Max’s challenge to shirtless arm wrestling, though declines doing it to the death (“That is incredibly uncivilized, Maximilian!” he huffs, always keeping a hint of the Grand Admiral cool intact.) Making quick work of the General’s brazen attitude, he stretches and sits back in his chair to have another one of Piett’s newly invented Death Blasters. In the bright lights of the officer’s mess, the art on his skin shows even better. The images of plants stand out to Gilad in particular. He of course knows he should get a cold shower before he does something worthy of being demoted. But it’s easier to stay. In the morning, his headache almost makes him forget. Almost.

The fourth time, he doesn’t back off, he doesn’t apologise. He faces what he perhaps should have faced long ago. The tension between the two of them has been mounting for months. It comes to a head over the umpteenth discussion on a tactic, both of them glowering at each other. There’s a sense of urgency in the air, as if something is coming and may snap between them. In hindsight Pellaeon doesn’t know what even possesses him, but he boldly grabs Thrawn’s wrists and kisses him on the mouth. For a few heart stopping seconds he feels Thrawn tense and he’s sure he’ll be killed, but then the Grand Admiral moans and kisses him back. He’ll find later that Chiss are stronger than humans and Thrawn could have easily thrown him off. He doesn’t. He seems hungry, a starved predator eagerly lapping at his skin. He wants this as much as Gilad does, underneath that cool, cultured look there is a hunger. They end up in a pile of limbs on the floor and Pellaeon stops thinking after that, running his hands over Thrawn’s back. Afterwards, he can finally see all those paintings on the deep blue skin. He doesn’t ask about them yet, though. It’s too much, too familiar and too soon.

The fifth time, they are in the shower, steam rising around them as they engage in the luxury of an actual water shower. Thrawn likes to dote on him after they’ve made love. He has a way of cleaning every bit of his lover, pampering him with expensive soaps and carrying him to bed afterwards. He’s the last person Pellaeon expected this from, but he’s come to love it even if he won’t admit to that in public. Now, as they are both relaxed under the hot water, Pellaeon asks. Thrawn seems hesitant, mentions it’s a tradition with his people and is reluctant to say more. Pellaeon soothes him with a kiss. He knows Thrawn guarded his people’s customs closely, having been in an anti-alien world for so long now. One wall down at a time. They will get there.

The sixth time, his head is on Thrawn’s naked chest. He traces one of the marks, a leaping animal of some kind. Thrawn studies him quietly, an oddly guarded expression on his face. “Each and every one has a meaning” he suddenly blurts out, unusually awkward in his words. Pellaeon strokes his cheek and that breaks down that particular wall. Thrawn tells him all about the Chiss’ history and customs in inking their own skin, making themselves a work of unique art. Of course, in line with their cool and collected approach, their uniforms cover everything. They are not for outsiders to see, only for people that are close. Art after all reveals so much about a person. It revels hopes, dreams and thoughts normally kept hidden. It’s now in plain view for Pellaeon to see. Pellaeon listens, each image tells him about Mitth’raw’nuruodo. He can see, now, how art explains a person.

What was almost the final time is after he’d almost lost everything, and he traces the new flower circling the ugly scar, feeling the soothing heartbeat underneath. That one has a special meaning to Gilad. He picked that flower. It says what words cannot describe. It speaks of their hopes, their dreams and their thoughts together.


	5. Of beds and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pellaeon angsts too much over his feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, slow burn, slow buuuurn

It was, Pellaeon mused, the ocassional perk of running an Empire to visit planets for nothing but some good PR. Thrawn strongly believed in respecting local customs and cultures and keeping them intact. The way he saw it, those allowed to keep living their normal everyday lives were much more likely to accept a new government. It’d be impossible to keep in touch with every single planet, of course, but they were happy to accept invites from a friendly governor every now and then.

All visits followed a similar pattern. Take a walk around the capital city. Speak to the citizens. Sign autographs. Enjoy the local cuisine. It was predictable, and that made it a wonderful change from the hustle and bustle of a starship in wartime.

Thrawn had a tendency to wander around the cities they visited, which was both endearing (he’d get quite into local architecture) and frustrating (he’d get quite into local architecture). This particular trip found them together in an art museum. Leave it to Thrawn to find the city’s only museum. Pellaeon found his mind wandering as Thrawn studied a lumpy statue made out of some sort of local clay.

They’d been spending a lot more time together lately. Though Thrawn first and foremost claimed he liked to take Pellaeon along as he was seen as an Imperial hero, Pellaeon knew Thrawn appreciated his company a lot more than he let on. Sure, it was hard to read him sometimes, but Pellaeon saw the subtle smile on that alien face when they talked. Bored as he may get in some of the museums, he knew Thrawn was telling him all about the art because he cared for Pellaeon’s opinion. He seemed at ease when it was just the two of them together and that kept Pellaeon longing for more trips together.

Okay. And there was the matter of this odd, teenage like crush he’d been having on Thrawn. The crush he was still figuring out. The crush he was usually trying to forget about. That crush. It made him blush just to think about it. He was an officer in the Imperial Fleet, not a lovesick puppy. With all his years of experience he should honestly get over this.

The problem was, his heart wasn’t really listening to his brain. Even standing in the museum, he couldn’t help but focus on Thrawn’s slender hands running over the sculpture (studying, in Thrawn’s world, seemed to include a lot of hands on experience.) If he wasn’t focusing on those hands, he’d often find his thoughts running into absolutely inappropriate areas whenever the Grand Admiral spoke. That voice alone would be enough to get him—

“Don’t you agree, Captain?” Thrawn had apparently been speaking to him. Don’t panic. Just answer him. “Yes, sir, quite.” Pellaeon said, hoping this wasn’t going to be a repeat of the Ugnaught Incident (honestly, how was he supposed to know saying ‘it looks nice’ was a grave offensive to the entire culture?). Thrawn eyed him, then his face relaxed. “I’m sorry, Captain, you must be terribly bored. Let’s have something to eat at that inn our host recommended.” Pellaeon breathed a silent sigh of relief. Thrawn’s usual uncanny ability to read his second in command seemed to be lacking today. Good.

Pellaeon relaxed over dinner. Their host had recommended an old inn located away from the busy main streets. An old-fashioned fire heated the room and the low, wooden ceiling made the place feel cosy. They lounged in their chairs after dinner, Thrawn nursing a cup of hot local tea. Listening to the low murmurs of the patrons around them, Pellaeon found his worries over his crush melt away. He’d deal with it. It’d be fine.

He should have known the universe would find a way to ruin that feeling. As they stood in their room for the night, they both looked at the bed sitting in the middle of the room. The only bed in the room. Thrawn glanced over at him. “If you have a preference for sides, now is the time.”

Pellaeon stared at Thrawn in surprise. He was _not_ going to go into that bed. “Don’t make me make it an order, Captain” Thrawn said “I know you Corellians pride yourself on being stubborn but I’m not dealing with the backache you’ll have if you sleep on the floor.” The bastard. He’d probably be all right, sleeping peacefully all night while his Captain struggled to contain himself. It was all easy enough for him to say. Thrawn lifted an eyebrow. “I’ll go take a shower, I expect you in that bed when I get back.” With that, he turned to the refresher, unbuttoning his jacket as he went. Right, then.

He did know better than to argue with Thrawn. Though the Grand Admiral was far more lenient on discussion and debate than most of his rank, he could only be pushed so far. Tonight wasn’t the night to push him too far. Grumbling to himself about the universe having it out for him, Pellaeon stepped out of the chair to pull his sleepwear from his luggage. At least he’d packed some old sweatpants and a shirt, as any good Corellian he preferred to sleep in the nude normally. For a short, fleeting moment he wondered how Thrawn would react to that but he was quick to get himself back in check. Getting his hopes up would only lead to other things getting up and he was not going to consider that.

Thrawn came back from the fresher and hung his uniform in the wardrobe. Pellaeon meanwhile took one look at him and very much wished he could just sink into the floor. The universe must feel particularly bad towards him lately. The Grand Admiral, it seemed, had also packed sleeping wear, but only just. Clad in tight underwear with an old undershirt, he looked like something that should be illegal. Of course. Of course he looked perfect. Pellaeon unconsciously frowned at these thoughts, they weren’t proper thoughts to have about the Commander of the Imperial Fleet.

Thrawn actually looked at him oddly. “If it is this offensive to you, Captain, I’d be happy to ask for an extra cot.” Great. Now Thrawn thought he was the same type of xenophobic ass as the rest of them. Suddenly, Pellaeon felt bad. It wasn’t Thrawn’s fault he had a massive crush on his superior officer. It was his problem to deal with and he’d hate to ruin the respect he knew Thrawn had for him. He swallowed nervously, before deciding to at least be honest on some parts. “I apologise, sir," he said “it’s not that I’m against sharing the bed with you. I’m just worried I may….react to you…” he trailed off, feeling himself blush crimson red. Very smooth, Gilad. Very elegant.

To his surprise, the alien Admiral actually laughed. Pellaeon had never heard him laugh before and sat in stunned silence. “You think,” Thrawn said, snorting slightly, “that I’d be offended if you…reacted to me?” His eyes sparkled as he shook his head. “Captain Pellaeon, I could never be offended by something like that. Not from you.”

Oh. He wasn’t offended. He even-

Oh Sithspit!

Pellaeon made a helpless spluttering sound which seemed to amuse Thrawn even more. Chuckling to himself, he moved the sheets to slip in next to his Captain. Making himself comfortable, he suddenly looked at Pellaeon again.

“You weren’t fooling me, back in the museum” he spoke, Pellaeon’s wish to sink into the floor only intensifying. “I just want you to know, I’m not offended. I’ve enjoyed our time together too.” Thrawn said this as matter of factly as if they were discussing some strategy. He stretched out and yawned. “If you don’t mind, Captain, I’ll be going to sleep. Good night.” With that, just as matter of factly, he turned over on his side and fell asleep, the heat of his body close to Pellaeon.

Oh Sithspit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stayed tuned for the steamy sequel coming tomorrow ;3 What, did you really think they'd just sleep? Ha!


	6. The best laid plans - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pellaeon is tired of being played with. He takes charge. Stuff goes bump in the night.

How could he just…lie there and sleep? Where did he get that iron control? Pellaeon was still awake hours after Thrawn had gone to sleep. He’d attempted to mentally review the entire financial plan for the Chimaera. He’d counted TaunTauns. He’d thought up several new strategies to deal with the Rebels. None of it had helped to take his mind off of the fact he was sharing a bed with Grand Admiral Thrawn. Grand. Admiral. Thrawn.

It frustrated him how Thrawn had admitted to appreciating Pellaeon’s admiration, but not acting on it. No, he’d gone right to sleep, as if he wasn’t affected at all. Pellaeon sat up in the bed. Actually, wasn’t it always that way? Thrawn was always miles ahead of his Captain. Always planning things out then waiting for Pellaeon to catch up.

Pellaeon watched the man sleeping next to him. It was frustrating. How could Thrawn claim he enjoyed Pellaeon’s company and wouldn’t be offended by any reaction, when he clearly made no move to show his feelings? The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he got. It was all good and fun for Thrawn to go to sleep and leave him with his raging thoughts. Honestly, was the man used to always getting his way? Was that was he expected, Pellaeon quietly dealing with whatever feelings he had? Or was this all another one of his games?

Pellaeon was tired of games. Either they reached some sort of agreement on this, or he would…well, he’d see what he’d do otherwise. Mentally setting himself up for the worst, he reached out a hand and touched Thrawn’s back. Gently rubbing his hand up and down, he reveled in the feel of Thrawn’s bodyheat radiating through the fabric of the t-shirt. He felt warmer than a human, a delightful sensation he’d like to feel more of.

 Boldly, he moved his hand to stroke through the blueblack hair. That had an effect, at least. Fighting the urge to stop, he looked into Thrawn’s glowing red eyes, even more intimidating in the dark of the room. Thrawn blinked, slowly, lazily. “I see you made up your mind” he said, his voice a little husky with sleep. He moved to take Pellaeon’s other hand, but the Captain was quicker and pinned both of Thrawn’s hands in place.

“I’ve made up my mind in more ways than one” Pellaeon said, hoping his voice wasn’t betraying his nervousness. Those alien eyes seemed to blaze more at that, but Thrawn remained silent, clearly awaiting his next move. He probably thought he knew what Pellaeon was going to do. He probably had it all planned out. He probably expected to be in full control of the situation. That realization gave him the push he needed.

Pellaeon pushed down on the alien’s wrists and looked him in the eye. “I’ve decided I’ll no longer be played with” he said. Before Thrawn could say more, he straddled the Admiral and claimed his lips in a hard, aggressive kiss. Nipping at Thrawn’s bottom lip, he felt Thrawn shiver against him. Pellaeon half expected to be pushed to the side so Thrawn could take control, but the Chiss looked at him with an unfamiliar expression on his face. It almost took Pellaeon’s breath away when he realised it was surprise. The Grand Admiral, the highest ruling authority in the entire Empire, was surprised by his Captain straddling him and taking charge.

Pellaeon knew to take advantage while it lasted and leaned down to kiss those lips again. This time, he pushed his tongue inbetween the blue lips. Roughly exploring the hot mouth, he became aware of Thrawn actually moaning and some of the tension leaving the body underneath him. He broke off the kiss and bit into Thrawn’s neck. “Thought you could treat me as your subordinate in the bedroom, did you?” he growled, making another mark. “Thought you had it all planned out?” he moved his hips to rub his erection against Thrawn’s. “Think again…”

His only reply was a soft groan from Thrawn. He was panting, his head thrown back to expose his neck even more, his eyes almost closed. He was a wonderful sight to behold. Pellaeon released his wrists to make quick work of his shirt. Running his eyes over the smooth, hairless chest, he didn’t allow himself any time to think and bend down to run his tongue over a nipple. This earned him another moan, strangely cut off. When he looked up, he saw Thrawn was fighting to contain himself. “You’ll have to ask me for it, Thrawn”, he spoke, “and I’ll make you ask for it.”

In hindsight, he had expected Thrawn to shut down, push him off and call it a night. However, once more the Admiral showed an unusual willingness for Pellaeon to be in charge. He peeked at Pellaeon’s face, seemed to make up his mind and settled down on the pillow again, still breathing harder than usual. Interesting.

Stroking Thrawn’s sides, he took note of which spots made him gasp. Lightly rubbing the taut stomach, he again leaned forward to suck a hard, dark blue nipple. Judging by the sounds, Thrawn liked that. He still stubbornly held back, though. That’d have to be changed. Pellaeon allowed himself a short grin before biting down. Thrawn almost howled, arching his back off of the bed and grinding his hips, desperate for more friction.

Gilad ran his hand down, teasing over the waist of the Admiral’s underwear. Thrawn shuddered beneath him at the sensation. Moving his fingers over the thin line of soft blue black hair going down from the Chiss’ navel, he stopped just over the sizable bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers. “We could stop it here, you know,” Pellaeon whispered. Thrawn’s eyes narrowed at that. Pellaeon smirked and ever so lightly ran his hand over the hot hardness in his boxers. “Or you could ask me to go on…” he continued, circling the wet spot on the fabric underneath his hand.

Thrawn muttered something incomprehensible. Pellaeon added a hint of pressure to his circling, which made Thrawn’s hips twitch up again. Looking at Thrawn’s clenched jaw, Pellaeon knew he was close to breaking. Giving his straining cock a quick squeeze through the fabric, he started moving his hand away.

“Please, Gilad…” Thrawn closed his eyes slowly as he said it. “I would…I need…please”. Pellaeon almost came on the spot at hearing that smooth, baritone voice beg for it. He took a few deep breaths, then lightly kissed Thrawn on the lips. Thrawn made a deep growling sound at the back of his throat and pulled Pellaeon in for a deeper kiss. Their tongues battling, Pellaeon ground himself against Thrawn. It wasn’t enough. Suddenly impatient, he pulled down his pants and then Thrawn’s underwear. He allowed himself a moment to look at him. Mostly human shaped, good, he could work with that. The tip glistened with moisture and was begging to be tasted. Pellaeon did just that.

Thrawn’s hands tangled themselves in his hair, pulling him closer. He moaned Pellaeon’s name, spurring him on. He took his time, lazily licking around the head. Thrawn tasted different than a human, sweet with a hint of spice. Pellaeon hummed in appreciation as he took Thrawn in his mouth as far as he could. Though it’d been years since he’d last been with a man, it seemed he hadn’t lost his touch judging by the sounds coming from Thrawn. The Admiral tensed up underneath him and breathed in sharply, tugging on Pellaeon’s hair. As he looked up, he saw Thawn’s lips tremble before he spoke up “I need more, Gilad, _ch'tra ror_ …” he trailed off in the unfamiliar language.

Pellaeon didn’t need to be told twice. Pressing a kiss to Thrawn’s abdomen, he quickly rolled over to dig in his luggage. Usually, he’d pack—ah. Unscrewing the bottle of lube as he turned back to Thrawn, he became aware of the Grand Admiral watching him with hooded eyes. He gasped at the sheer lust in those eyes. Coating his fingers with a liberal amount of lube, he stroked at Thrawn’s cock with one hand while teasing around his opening with the other. Taking his time to stretch and prepare Thrawn as much as he could, he knew he couldn’t wait longer when he felt Thrawn tighten himself around his fingers, a gleam in his eyes.

They both groaned as Pellaeon pushed in. He rested his forehead against Thrawn, panting at the sensation of being inside that hotter than human body. The heat made him dizzy with want. Moving his hips experimentally, he was rewarded with a hiss from Thrawn. The alien pulled his legs around Pellaeon’s, pushing him closer and urging him to move faster. He felt Thrawn’s nails scratching at his back. Force. The heat of him. He wasn’t going to last long. Thrawn licked and nipped at his neck as he began to thrust in earnest.

Inbetween his bites, Thrawn was keeping up a near-constant stream of filth that Pellaeon would have never believed to ever come across the Grand Admiral’s lips. It was insanely erotic to hear that smooth, cultured voice to tell him _yes, take me harder_. He could only obey. He didn’t even bother to try and be quiet as he came, not caring if anyone heard. He felt a hotness on his belly as Thrawn came, too, none too quietly.

Trying not to collapse too hard on his superior, he was aware of Thrawn pulling him close, strong arms pulling him in. He sleepily nuzzled Thrawn’s chest. He didn’t want to think about the sticky mess inbetween them. He didn’t even want to think at all. What he’d just done was—

“I told you I wouldn’t be offended, Gilad” Thrawn suddenly spoke, his voice scratchy. “I was mistaken.” Pellaeon felt his heartrate speed up alarmingly.

“I would be most offended if we never did this again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, unusual dom!Pellaeon. I feel Thrawn is all too often spinning his plans expecting everyone to follow him. It's good for him to be put in his place sometimes -- he doesn't seem to mind, after all. From time to time, anyway...
> 
> Re: Thrawn's parts being "basically human shaped" I don't know yet where I'm going with that, if I'm going further with that. Use your imagination ;3
> 
> ch'tra ror - "Go on" (I am using http://starwars.myrpg.org/coruscant_translator.php for the sake of quick Cheunh for NaNo)


	7. Rainstorm and flowers - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two short drabbles in one chapter  
> One fluffy  
> One sad (you have been warned! TW for death and grief)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, missed a day as I was playing D&D all day yesterday. I'll try and stay on track. Thank you all SO MUCH for your kudos and comments <3 They really keep me going and I'm so glad there are people out there enjoying these ficlets.

**Rainstorm - Fluff**

Thrawn insisted in taking him on leave. He doesn’t like leaving the ship in other people’s hands. Yes, Ardiff is very capable and yes, Quenton and Vermel will be around too, but it still makes him feel as if he’s leaving the old lady in the hands of people too young to handle her. Thrawn, of course, laughs and tells him he worries too much. If only Thrawn would worry a little bit more about things, Gilad would have a lot less gray hairs.

Thrawn takes him to a quiet, backwater planet with a mild climate. It’s spring as they arrive, and flowers are blooming everywhere. The Admiral knows of his love for gardening and takes pleasure in Pellaeon’s delighted observing of the extensive gardens. He sits back, nursing a cup of tea, as his Captain takes in the garden.

They don’t get to do this often. Thrawn likes to dote on him, though he’d never admit to it out loud. He likes taking Pellaeon places he knows he’ll love, usually observing him with a fond smile on his face. Thrawn knows just the right discrete places to book and they always spend the night sampling the local cuisine before ending up in an oversized bed. It’s so nice to get away from Imperial standardized cots. (It’s also nice to have a bit more space in bed, they have both experienced just how hard a stardestroyer’s floors are if one falls out of the bed.)

Pellaeon looks up from the native rose he was studying as he feels a droplet of moisture on his neck. A spring rainstorm seems to be moving in. Getting to his feet, he wants to move indoors but stops in his tracks when he sees Thrawn.

Thrawn is staring at the sky, transfixed. Coming from a planet that’s colder than Hoth, he probably hasn’t experienced a lot of soft spring rain. He studies the small droplets that fall onto his hand. When he looks up and meets Pellaeon’s eyes, he almost looks guilty, as if Gilad caught him doing something private. He’s still like that sometimes, even if they’ve been together for years now.

Pellaeon steps up next to him and gently takes his arm. “Nice, isn’t it?” he says, wanting Thrawn to feel at ease. Thrawn considers his words, then his face relaxes. “Yes” he simply states, covering Pellaeon’s hand on his arm with his own. They stand in the rain, enjoying the silence for a moment. The rain falls down on them, soaking them both, but neither man pays attention to it.

Thrawn is the first to move, his shirt clinging to his skin. He takes Pellaeon in his arms and pulls him close, resting their foreheads against each other. As water drips down his face, he starts talking in a low voice. Cheunh poetry, Pellaeon recognizes it. He never learned the language that well, but he knows this poem. It speaks of a deep passion and love. He closes his eyes and lets himself float away on the words.

Standing there with the soft spring rain dripping down on them, Thrawn’s voice a pleasant baritone in his ears, he forgets all about the Chimaera. Maybe they should get on leave more often.

**After the storm - Gen - TW death, grief**

The days seem oddly empty now. He gets up. He runs the Empire. He even makes peace with the New Republic. A familiar voice in his head still tells him they’re called Rebels. He scoffs at it, though he likes having the voice around, really. Makes him feel less alone.

He catches himself turning his face to the side to ask for advice less and less now. That is progress. He no longer looks at the door to his quarters, either. He ordered them sealed and left alone. He isn’t sure why, it’s not as if they need to be ready for anything. It just feels wrong to get in there, to face the silence and memories. He doesn’t do it.

There’s Ardiff who takes on more and more duties, and does it well. He’s a good man. Vermel, too, supports him, quietly at his side and always ready to play Sabacc to take his mind off of things. They worry about him, though they try not to let it show. They allow him to grieve, a drink and a good talk whenever he needs it. He appreciates it, but he knows it’s not enough.

He finally has Killik Twilight moved to his quarters. Vermel at his side, he goes into the sealed quarters. He doesn’t break down, but only just. Thrawn left the painting to him, but he couldn’t bear to look at it. The first time he sees it again, he has to blink back tears. It continues to stab at him whenever he lays eyes on it, but the ache gets more dull over time. The painting sits on the wall in his bedroom, it’s the first and last he sees every day.

He remembers their talks together. One day, he finds himself telling Vermel about the time Thrawn patiently tried to teach him to read Elomi art. It had been an unusual calm afternoon and Thrawn had taken his time, never growing impatient, always supportive. It’s no longer just sadness he feels, but also an appreciation for what they had and what he learned.

He still puts flowers on the little memorial he’d made. He feels like an old fool, a hopeless idiot, but he hopes Thrawn is as good as reading messages in flowers as he was at reading them in art. It’s all he can do. Perhaps it is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :'(   
> But never fear, some good old cuddling and making out is near...


	8. Distraction - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn and lingerie, Pellaeon just can't look away...

_"Who said I've never worn lace under the uniform before, my dear?"_

That one comment Thrawn had made kept bouncing around in Pellaeon’s head. Kept bouncing around at the most inappropriate of moments, in fact. He found himself wondering about the Grand Admiral’s underwear during meetings, during dinners and even during battle. They’d agreed on keeping their personal relationship separate from their professional relationship, but pictures of Thrawn dressed up in the finest lace rose to Pellaeon’s mind all too often.

Probably exactly what Thrawn had hoped to achieve with his comment. Of course. Pellaeon had long since accepted Thrawn liked to play that sort of game and had even come to enjoy it. Just not when he was supposed to be focused. A focused, respected Captain of a stardestroyer wasn’t supposed to be thinking about his superior in lace thigh highs. Even if said superior was only too happy to wear them for his captain.

“I’d say so, yes, don’t you agree Captain Pellaeon?” Firmus Piett’s voice suddenly rang out amidst the thoughts in Pellaeon’s head. Ah. Yes. He was in an officers’ meeting about…something. Had they just been discussing the finances? He honestly couldn’t even recall. Firmus’ eyes on him, Pellaeon felt his face warm. He really hadn’t been paying attention.

“Your thoughts seem to have been…elsewhere, Captain” Thrawn spoke up. To those less close to him his face may have looked as impassive as ever, but Pellaeon saw the tiniest twitch at the corners of his mouth. He was enjoying this, all right. “We will discuss your lack of focus in private after this meeting, in the meantime, Admiral Piett, please continue on with the list…”

The rest of the meeting went by in an equal blur. They had set up strict boundaries for this to work, and being distracted on the job due to their relationship was probably not making Thrawn very happy. Veers gave him an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he left. Pellaeon had never told him the full story about him and Thrawn but he had shared some of his worries with Max. Loud as he may be sometimes, he was deeply loyal to his friends and he knew Gilad’s worry over being too distracted. 

As the door closed behind Piett and Veers, Pellaeon braced himself for the worst. However, there was no sound from the other end of the table. He blinked and focused on Thrawn. To his surprise, the Grand Admiral was leaning back in his chair, humming to himself. Pellaeon had to bite his tongue. Whatever Thrawn was going to say would be said when he felt the time was right. He’d learned there was no use in pushing the Admiral on certain things. 

Thrawn sat up a little straighter and worsened Pellaeon’s confusion by reaching down to pull of his boots. He sat back again and put his feet up on the table. It was then that Pellaeon knew.

“You…you want to see me distracted?” he said, for Thrawn’s feet were neatly clad in black, see through lace. Thrawn innocently wiggled his toes. “I just like to be comfortable, Captain” he said, as if it was an everyday occurrence for him to sit there and show off his taste in underthings. Pellaeon frowned as Thrawn just smiled at him. Two could play this game. 

“So. Did you opt for just socks today, or are you wearing my entire present?” he said, watching Thrawn’s eyes sparkle in approval. Pellaeon had bought him a matching set of stockings, a garter belt and lace panties. They were the expensive, classy sort, in a deep, shiny black. He’d blushed worse than ever as he’d given them, but Thrawn had been very touched. And eager to show Pellaeon just how touched, so the items hadn’t been worn that night. Pellaeon walked around the table and kneeled down next to the chair so his eyes were level with Thrawn’s. “You are wearing the entire set, aren’t you?” he said, fondly. 

He reached out a hand and put in on Thrawn’s thigh, gently massaging the firm muscle there. The fabric of the uniform was too thick to feel anything that may be underneath it. Pellaeon grunted in frustration at that, earning him another smile from Thrawn. “You could try to find out now, Gilad…or wait until tonight while you sit through another few meetings…I’m sure Firmus suspects something.”

Oh. So that was his plan. Pellaeon had known his fair share of on-ship flings, but nothing as daring as checking out his superior’s underwear in a meeting room. Underwear that superior had put on specifically for him. It sent a shiver down his spine. “Up” he said, his voice rough. “Bend over that table.”

“People could come in any moment” Thrawn said, though his voice didn’t sound convincing at all. Try as he might to come across as collected and calm, Pellaeon had come to know some of the buttons to press. He knew Thrawn happened to enjoy being ordered around from time to time, when he was in the mood. He was stronger than a human and could easily pick Pellaeon up to take him against the wall (which he had done on more than one memorable occasion). For him to now bend over on the table, exposing his back, showed his absolute trust in Pellaeon.

Pellaeon ran his hands over his backside. He fiddled with the belt over Thrawn’s tunic so he could undo his trousers. The possibility of being discovered added to the thrill of what he was doing. It was so very forbidden, it went against every rule in the book. Judging by Thrawn’s somewhat quicker breathing, he’d come to same conclusion. He made no move to stop Pellaeon, however, so the Captain unzipped his trousers and his hand met lace.

He wasn’t even surprised to find Thrawn was hard. Slowly, he ran his fingers over the lace panties. They felt incredibly soft and luxurious. Using his other hand to pull down Thrawn’s pants further, he was able to get a full look. Bend over on the meeting table, the lace panties stretched tight over Thrawn’s ass. The garter belt was slung over his hips, stockings neatly held in place with clips. He had been wearing that all morning. He had been wearing that as he gave orders on the bridge.

His erection almost painful, Pellaeon rubbed himself against Thrawn. He was a sight to behold, indeed. Clad in the most expensive lace for just Pellaeon to see…bend over the table they’d just had a meeting at. With somewhat shaking hands, Pellaeon undid his own belt and trousers. He watched as he rubbed his cock on the lace, shivering at the sensation and at Thrawn letting out a soft moan. 

“In my pocket” whispered Thrawn. It took Pellaeon a few seconds to catch up to the meaning, but then he reached into Thrawn’s uniform jacket to find a tiny bottle of lube. One day, he’d stop being amazed at just how well Thrawn planned things and how willingly he went along with those plans. 

Thoughts of that were quickly forgotten when he squirted some lube on his fingers and moved the lace aside. Fumbling slightly to get his fingers around the panties, he found Thrawn’s opening and teasingly rubbed his fingers over it. Thrawn hissed and arched his back, pushing into the contact. As Pellaeon’s skilled fingers worked on him, he was making all sorts of delicious sounds Pellaeon was sure would haunt him for any future meetings.

His other hand was busy running over the garter belt and stockings, appreciating the feel of the fabric underneath his hand. Knowing Thrawn had worn these all through this morning’s meetings was just exhilarating. He stroked lightly over the lace covered cock, earning him a whole new set of sounds from the alien. He looked at the man bend over the table in front of him. Black lace contrasting so very nicely with blue skin. As he pushed himself into Thrawn he let his hands wander all over his body, enjoying the heat and the sensation of Thrawn’s muscles flexing and relaxing as he reacted to the sensations.

He was taking his superior. Taking his superior who was wearing the lace underthings he’d gifted him. Taking him on the very table they’d just had a meeting on. Vader have his soul if it wasn’t the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. He wondered just how far he could go and put one hand on the back of Thrawn’s neck, pushing him to the table. The quickly silenced howl that earned him was enough to make him thrust his hips harder, the fact anyone could walk in adding to his hard thrusts. It was forbidden. It was wrong. It was perfect.

As he firmly wrapped his hand around Thrawn’s dick to stroke him in time with his thrusting, he knew this was turning Thrawn on just as much. He had been leaking into the panties, leaving a wet spot on the table. Pellaeon groaned softly at that, squeezing his hand tighter around Thrawn. “Show me how much you like this, Thrawn” he grunted. “I want to see it.” He didn’t even need to say it twice, with his head buried in the crook of his arm to muffle the sound, Thrawn came hard, making a further mess of the underwear and table underneath him. Knowing he’d have to wear it back on the bridge tipped Pellaeon over the edge too, spending himself inside the Admiral.

He let himself fall over Thrawn’s back, his legs shaking. He couldn’t even stand up anymore. Panting, he tried to slow his heartrate and tried very hard not to think about how it’d look if anyone walked in now. The body underneath him was relaxed and pleasantly hot against his. If it weren’t for the fact they’d been gone for too long already, Pellaeon would have very much liked to roll into bed. 

As it were, duty called. Pulling out carefully (earning him a somewhat dissatisfied growl from Thrawn) he stood on his still shaky legs and surveyed the scene before him. Thrawn turned over so he was looking at the Captain, still supported by the table, still in his stockings and ruined panties. There was a smug look on Thrawn’s face as he looked Pellaeon in the eye. He even stretched out, clearly very pleased with himself. 

While they tried to make themselves as representable as they could, Pellaeon sighed. “You know you’ve only made it worse, do you?” he said, trying not to ruin the moment but feeling worried at his own distraction at the same time. Thrawn gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, Captain. I’ll ensure you, I will be all too happy to allow you some more exploration to satisfy your curiousity. You should not need to be distracted if you know I’ll be there for you every night.” Pellaeon flushed at that. “I don’t think I can ever have a meeting again here though,” he said. Thrawn only threw him a crooked smile at that.

They walked back on the bridge, Thrawn looking as perfectly polished as ever. His uniform was neat and tidy, his hair slicked back and all around him was his usual air of calm and command. As if he hadn’t just been taken over a meeting table, Pellaeon thought, though he immediately took great care to steer his thoughts the other way.

His eyes fell on General Veers, sitting in a chair in one of the crewpits. Veers met his eyes and wiggled his eyebrows at him. Blast the man. Pellaeon wasn’t quite successful in hiding his blush. He had a feeling his next rounds of drinks with Max would be very interesting, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Veers knows what we all know.
> 
> ps, Thrawn being strong enough to manhandle Pellaeon and take him against the wall on "more than one memorable occasion" ? Stay tuned.


	9. Capes and shocks - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrawn has a cape.

**The Cape - Humor, oneshot**

He stood in front of the tall mirror in his quarters, observing himself as he would observe an art piece. Pellaeon hovered uncertainly behind him, not daring to speak up quite yet. As Thrawn turned to face him, the cape billowed around him most impressively.

“It looks like a bit much, Captain” he said, running his fingers over the thin fabric. Privately, Pellaeon felt it actually looked amazing on the Grand Admiral. “Yes sir” he said diplomatically. Thrawn turned to face the mirror again, brow furrowed in thought.

Director Krennic had introduced the idea quite some years ago. He’d always compliment his white uniform with an equally white, large cape. It had worked to provide an image of power, combined with Krennic’s always impeccable posture. Some could argue Thrawn didn’t need that extra display of power, but tonight’s dinner was incredibly important and it wouldn’t hurt to remind everyone of his position.

If it’d been up to Pellaeon, the cape should just be mandatory. It made Thrawn look even more regal than usual. Of course, he sometimes felt Thrawn could wear nothing at all and still look as commanding as ever, but he tried not to think about that too often as it was doing funny things to his judgement.

As Thrawn moved to step out of the room, the edge of his cape got caught on a rare Ploakian sculpture he’d recently purchased. They both stood rooted to the spot as the sculpture wobbled on its small pedestal, time appeared to stand still as the sculpture moved to and fro. With an earth shattering crash that could probably heard all over the _Chimaera_ , the sculpture tipped over and fell, breaking apart in a million tiny pieces.

Neither man spoke. Pellaeon winced. Though he was aware the man in front of him had a much nicer temper than the late Darth Vader, he wasn’t so sure that calm demeanour would hold with an art crisis. Quietly surveying the scene, Thrawn unclasped the cape from his neck. With a flourish, he threw it on the nearby couch. “I think this settles the matter, Captain” he said, calmly keying for a clean up droid to be sent to his quarters.

Pellaeon exhaled the breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. “Agreed, sir,” he said, stepping into place behind Thrawn to walk with him to their dinner with the Moffs.

“But it was so artistically done” Thrawn muttered.

 

**Alive - hurt/comfort, general**

He was just giving Thrawn the latest updates on the Chimaera and her crew when there was a loud beep coming from the command panel on his chair. Thrawn glanced at it, then dropped the datapad he was holding. It smashed to pieces on the ground, but the Grand Admiral did not even seem to notice. He was staring at the message, a look of deep shock on his normally neutral face. He seemed to have forgotten Pellaeon was even stil in the room, his hands shaking and his face a few shades lighter blue than normal.

Pellaeon hesitated. Whatever the Grand Admiral had just learned, it had shocked him deeply. It was probably none of his Captain’s business, but he also didn’t want to walk out on his superior when he was clearly in distress. He’d developed a deep loyalty for Thrawn and was just considering asking if everything was OK when Thrawn’s head snapped up and he looked at Pellaeon. He seemed to be confused at him standing there. “You are dismissed, Captain,” he said, his voice rough and speaking as if it pained him.

Pellaeon came dangerously close to disobeying the order, but eventually turned and walked out wondering what he had just witnessed. It didn’t sit right with him, at all, to leave the Grand Admiral like that. On the other hand, what business did he have forcing himself on Thrawn when he wanted to be alone? As close as they’d grown over the past months, Thrawn still guarded his feelings so closely, Pellaeon was sure his attention would not be welcomed or appreciated right now.

Thrawn didn’t show for dinner. It wasn’t entirely unusual for him to miss a meal as he often took his meals in his own quarters, but it added to Pellaeon’s nagging worry. That night’s food somehow didn’t taste good to him. He felt distant from the usual dinner talks, his mind drifting to Thrawn’s pale face and shaking hands.

As Thrawn didn’t show for the final bridge check of the night, Pellaeon knew he had to act. Thrawn would never skip these and for him to do so now was telling. Mentally trying to prepare himself, Pellaeon rang the doorchime to Thrawn’s quarters. Not entirely unexpected, the door didn’t open. Corellian stubbornness held out over nerves as Pellaeon rang the chime again, this time also speaking up. “It’s Captain Pellaeon. I’d be able to sleep much better tonight if you opened the door or at least talked to me.” Just when he thought the door wouldn’t open at all and he raised his hand to knock instead, the door slid aside. Almost stumbling in, Pellaeon tugged on his uniform jacket and walked into the dimly lit corridor to Thrawn’s command center.

He was still sitting in his command chair. His colour had returned somewhat, but he still gazed out into space as if nothing was making sense to him anymore. The broken datapad still lay at his feet. He didn’t acknowledge Pellaeon in any way. The room was far colder than usual. Pellaeon turned up the heat and then, once more thanking his Corellian genes, walked up to the command chair.

“Sir?” he said, softly, his voice unnaturally loud in the dead silence of the room. Thrawn didn’t respond. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and lightly put his hand on Thrawn’s lower arm. “It’s cold here,” he said, his voice steady, “let me take you to your living quarters.” He expected Thrawn to respond, but he only got an almost mechanical nod as Thrawn stood up. Pellaeon’s hand still on his arm, he allowed himself to be steered towards his living quarters where the heat was up.

Thrawn seated on the couch, Pellaeon went into the kitchen area to see if he had tea. His mother had always been fond of making big mugs of the stuff whenever someone was upset. He found himself facing quite a few unusual herbs and spices so he went with a glass of water instead.

“He’s alive” Thrawn croaked out when he re-entered. Sensing it’d be better to keep quiet, Pellaeon pushed the glass of water into his hands and carefully sat down beside him, trying to keep note of Thrawn’s personal space. “He’s alive, and I left. I left as if it didn’t matter to me that he was gone. Now he’s alive and I can’t possibly face him.” At this, he turned to Pellaeon, who was shocked at seeing a tortured look on his face.

When their eyes met, it was as if Thrawn suddenly became aware he was there. Something seemed to close up in his face, a familiar mask sliding in place. “Oh no you don’t” Pellaeon said. “I am not sure what has gotten you so rattled, but I’m not letting you sit here and torture yourself.” His voice sounded a whole lot more confident than he felt, what would stop Thrawn from simply throwing him out?

Thrawn blinked at his subordinate’s unusual attitude. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again, clearly pensive. Only now seeing the glass of water in his hand, he took a sip, averting his eyes. When he looked up again, his face was somehow different. “I received word about my brother” he said. Pellaeon nodded at him. “A shocking word?” he asked. “Unexpected is the word I would choose” said Thrawn. “I thought he was dead, but it turns out he was alive all this time. He was told I betrayed my people and was banished.” At that, Thrawn’s hands started to shake again. Pellaeon reached and took the glass from him. When he put it on the table, he squeezed Thrawn’s arm again. “If he’s your brother, sir, I’m sure he knows you would never betray your people. I know you never would.”

At that, Thrawn made a soft sound. For a fleeting moment Pellaeon was afraid he had offended him somehow, and he made to apologise, but Thrawn shook his head. “I’m just very touched, Gilad” he said. He looked down at the Captain’s hand still on his arm.

“Did I ever tell you about the first time my brother met humans?” he said, still looking at Pellaeon’s hand. “Let me tell you, he thought all humans were like Corellians…” as he spoke about his brother, he put his hand over Pellaeon’s, his thumb stroking over the back of Pellaeon’s hand. As he spoke about his homeplanet and people, he didn’t let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's next, what's next? I'm working on several things:
> 
> 1) Home for the Holidays which is a sugary sweet holiday story here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8487829/chapters/19451905  
> 2) Various drabbles for here, including some steamy ones. Please feel free to leave headcanons or prompts in the comments, I'm very happy to write something for you this NaNo <3


	10. First look - Voices -- General/Mature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't feel like writing today.
> 
> But if even a bit of my silly fics,  
> help you forget about the world for a bit...  
> I'd have been glad to help out.  
> <3

**First look**

He was prepared for anything. After weeks of holding what he had come to refer to as his part of the Fleet together, dealing with squabbling Moffs, and above all dealing with the sheer mess left behind, he was ready to accept anything. They’d received the initial call from deep in the Unknown Regions. Pellaeon hadn’t dared to believe it could possibly be true. The past months had seen to many horrors for him to have much hope left.

He’d known when he’d heard the voice, though. The voice that had carefully guided him a few years before. There was no mistaking that deep baritone with its cultured tones. They had agreed to meet up in five days time. That is how Pellaeon found himself and the Chimaera hanging amidst unfamiliar stars. They had arrived early, which Pellaeon regretted somewhat as it gave him time to think. Quiet time to think was his least favourite of things since Endor. It allowed him to dwell too much on all the could haves, should haves and would haves.

Mercifully, his thoughts were interrupted by the proximity alarm. “Unknown ship ahead, sir” Tschel said, the tension clear all around the bridge. “Please check its broadcasting code, lieutenant” Pellaeon said, keeping his voice void of any emotion. He had a ship to run, after all. Not even the arrival of the last and most unusual of the Empire’s Grand Admirals should faze him.

“Code checks out, sir” Tschel said. “Excellent. Please prepare docking bay 5” Pellaeon said, turning towards the aft turbolift to go there. No, this shouldn’t faze him. But as he rode down on the lift, he felt butterflies in his stomach that had nothing to do with the lift’s speed. As much as he tried to squash down any hope, he couldn’t help but think of the possibilities if this was really the Grand Admiral Thrawn.

As he stood alone in the docking bay, he wondered if he should have brought a squad of stormtroopers. He knew that voice to be right, but voiceprints were easy to falsify. The ship was already docking, and Pellaeon knew he’d just have to deal with it. Somehow, it felt fitting to not adhere to strict protocol.

He straightened as the ship’s hatch opened slowly. His back straight and his chin up, Pellaeon waited for the passenger to disembark. He was ready. Or as ready as he’d ever be. As the passenger walked up to him, he somehow knew it was the real deal. Only a Grand Admiral could walk onto an unfamiliar ship oozing that much confidence and power.

The alien looked at him, the red eyes glittering and highly intimidating. Oh yes. Pellaeon had read about Thrawn’s infamous glowing red eyes and how some in the Imperial Court had never learned how to hold that gaze. He prided himself on meeting those eyes now. “Welcome to the Chimaera, Grand Admiral Thrawn” he said, saluting. “She is fully at your command.”

For a moment, Thrawn didn’t speak. He calmly looked around the docking bay as if he hadn’t heard Pellaeon. When he did speak, those red eyes seemed to look straight into his soul. “Thank you, Captain Pellaeon. I am glad we meet again. I would not have any other ship, of course.”

Force, the man had an even more beautiful voice when heard live without the subspace radio interference. Smooth, cultured and deep. It flowed around him like a comfortable blanket with something darker underneath. Something about that voice drew him in and gave a sense of something forbidden and secretive lurking underneath. Something he’d have to consider very carefully.

But for now, they had an Empire to run and a war to win. It would have to wait.

**Voice - Mature**

He should, honestly, stop this behavior. It wasn’t becoming of a Captain of the flagship of the Imperial Fleet. It wasn’t becoming of a man his age. He wasn’t even sure how or when it had started. He’d been listening to Thrawn’s voice calmly giving out orders for months. From the moment they’d met, he had gotten fascinated with that voice.

He knew he was in trouble when he found his thoughts wandering to that voice whenever he was alone in his quarters. Sure, it was only proper to think over the day’s events and prepare for the next day. It was good practice to go over any battles or issues and think them over so to be better equipped to deal with them next time.

He wasn’t sure it was _entirely_ proper to get all hot and bothered while thinking over the day’s events and imagining way different endings about them. Different endings that usually featured the Grand Admiral without his uniform. Often, they also featured something in particular.

Thrawn’s voice.

It was maddening. He had to listen to that smooth voice all day. Pellaeon had always been appreciative of both genders or anything inbetween, but this whole voice thing was new to him. Never before was a voice of such massive influence to him. The worst part was he couldn’t possibly allow his thoughts to stray. They had a war to win and there was that whole no fraternization matter. Though Pellaeon had always felt it was a flexible rule one could conveniently forget about from time to time, he wasn’t able to conveniently forget about it when it concerned the highest ranking officer in all of the Empire.

He therefore firmly told himself to get over this weird crush. Hoping to forget about it, he logged in to the Holonet to look at some of his particular favourite stories. Maybe looking at that one about the nice Rodian lady would help him forget. After all, maybe he had just gone without sexual release for too long. That was probably it. It was making him have all those sensual thoughts and they only happened to feature the Grand Admiral because they spent so much time together.

None of his rationalizing was very good at stopping a small voice in his head from speaking up about all those times Thrawn had completely disregarded his personal space. Or all those times Thrawn had casually touched him on the shoulder or arm. Or all those times he’d been blushing at even the smallest hint of approval from Thrawn. Or—

No. He just needed to release some pent-up frustration and he’d be just fine. Focusing on the screen again and unzipping his pants, he tried to focus on thinking about anything but Thrawn. Right. The Rodian lady story. She was just about to meet—

An image of red eyes rose in his thoughts. Oh sod it. He kept going back to Thrawn. He might as well. As much has he seemed to be reading minds sometimes, there was no way Thrawn really could. He’d never find out. Better get it out (so to speak, he snorted) in private, than to keep getting distracted on the job and get in trouble.

Leaning back in his chair, he idly stroked himself as he closed his eyes. Thrawn, then. It wasn’t hard to imagine his hand was actually the Grand Admiral’s. Had his mind not been occupied he would have in fact gotten a bit worried about how easy it was to imagine Thrawn there. As it were, he focused on imagining Thrawn there with him. Thrusting his hips a little into his touch, he thought of a blue hand on him, stroking and squeezing and knowing how to please. It was good.

What really made him arch up and moan though, was imagining Thrawn talking to him as he jerked off his Captain. He imagined that cultured voice whispering all sorts of filth, his toes curling in pleasure. He moaned softly as he imagined Thrawn saying a particular naughty thing. Fuck, it felt good. Using that voice to get him off was the hottest thing he’d ever imagined. He came hard, making a mess on his uniform.

Panting, he felt sanity return to him. That had been a little too good. He set out to clean himself and take out a fresh tunic when his comlink chirped. “Pellaeon here” he snapped, thanking whichever being was in charge of the universe for the comlink not disturbing him as he’d been busy. “Please come to the bridge, Captain” said that baritone voice he’d just been using to get off. It went right to his loins as if he hadn’t just released himself.

He was in trouble, all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Pellaeon/Thrawn's voice is super overused but ehhh I wanted to xD  
> Also Pellaeon TOTALLY writes and reads fanfic. No doubt.
> 
> Other stuff planned:  
> Sickfic (cute cuddling!)  
> Naughty kinks  
> (Your idea here, share!)


	11. Confessions - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Pellaeon reenacts a holodrama.

He was miserable. It wasn’t often that he didn’t feel like going to the bridge at all, but today was one of those days. Unfortunately, being Captain meant you didn’t get to just stay in bed for a day. Pellaeon dragged himself out of bed. “Urgh” he muttered at seeing himself in the mirror. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. He felt cold and too hot at the same time, his teeth clattering. Fantastic. Just what he needed. Sick days were for later. Not for right now when there were important decisions to be made and battles to be fought.

He somehow got himself to the bridge, though a persistent buzzing in his ears made it very hard to focus. He skipped breakfast, the thought alone made his stomach churn. He tried to keep his pace steady as he walked around on the bridge. The deck seemed to be slowly moving up and down in waves and he had to close his eyes against the painful glare from the overhead displays. Not good. He’d just have to get through.

He tried focusing on the stars outside instead but that only seemed to make it worse. He felt as if the Chimaera was spinning around herself, the starts going further and further out of focus. Perhaps coming here had been a mistake, but he’d just have to grit his teeth today. As Thrawn settled on the command chair next to him (what he wouldn’t give to sit down), Pellaeon tried to focus on the report just given to him by Lieutenant Tschel. Odd, how the letters were all unreadable, blotchy spots on the datapad. He should have that datapad looked at, if only he weren’t so darn dizzy and—

The next thing he knew, he was half on the floor with something soft underneath his head. His upper body seemed to be supported by something warm. He grimaced at the bright bridge lights and closed his eyes again. “Lights, half power” a calm voice said from somewhere over him. He knew that voice. Opening his eyes again halfway, thankful for the now dimmed bridge lights, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Two red lights blinked at him from above. Huh. Did he order to have those installed or--

Oh.

Oh Bantha poodoo.

It was Grand Admiral Thrawn that was supporting him. He’d crouched down and was holding Pellaeon in his arms. _Very graceful, Gilad, fainting into the arms of your superior officer_ he thought. _Just the stuff of romance holos._ How typical that that would be the first thought to come to him. Romance. It wasn’t as if Thrawn would even consider him in that way. “All right, Captain, take it easy, I’ve called the medics.” Thrawn said, face very carefully neutral.

Wonderful. He’d voiced that thought out loud. Struggling to focus more on Thrawn’s face, he tried to explain. That was until he saw the very slight smile tugging at the corners of Thrawn’s mouth. Was it just his imagination, or did those arms squeeze around him a little tighter? He didn’t have too much time to consider it, as the medics moved in and got him on a stretcher to sickbay. He felt even colder without Thrawn’s arms supporting him. Vaguely aware of his arm being jabbed with a needle, he let himself fall into the dark pit waiting for him.

Pain was the first thing he felt. As if someone had unleashed a Bantha in his skull and had it dance around. Wincing, he tried to get back into the comfortable dream he’d been having before waking up. Something about the Grand Admiral holding him tightly on the bridge and smiling at him. It had been a good dream.

Force. His throat hurt. He felt dehydrated. Where was he, anyway? This bed felt far too comfortable to be the cot in his quarters. Opening his eyes again, he tried to look around without upsetting the Bantha in his head too much. Sickbay. That’s odd. He didn’t recall going to sickbay. A noise next to him startled him. “Ow!” he groaned as his headache increased from the sudden movement.

Two red dots appeared at his bedside. That was odd. Since when had they installed…he frowned at the thought. Didn’t he have just the same thought about red lights earlier? “I am glad you are awake, Captain” said a very familiar voice.

Perhaps he hadn’t been dreaming. It slowly came back to him now. In particular a painful detail that made his headache spike even more. He’d admitted his feelings for Thrawn out loud. On the bridge. After fainting right into Thrawn’s arms. If it head wasn’t hurting so damned much, he’d have been laughing out loud at how cliché his life had become.

“Are you all right?” Thrawn said, moving closer. It was nice of him to show concern, but Pellaeon would rather he’d just shove the demotion papers at him and be done with it. It’d be difficult, but it was better to get it done quickly. It was a shock to feel a warm hand on his forehead, stroking his fevered brow. He wanted to say something but he could only croak pathetically. The hand ceased its stroking and Thrawn moved away. Just as Pellaeon wanted to croak his displeasure at losing the contact, Thrawn was back, a cup with a straw in his hand. Very carefully helping Pellaeon up, he even held the cup as Pellaeon drank greedily. It didn’t stop his headache, but it did allow him to speak.

“Why?” was the first word out of his mouth. Probably not the most elegant way to put it, but he felt too out of it to say anything else. Thrawn cocked his head and observed him. Pellaeon waited. He knew Thrawn was probably very much aware of what he meant. Knowing him, he may have made several plans about it already.

Thrawn sat back in his chair. “Why what, Captain? Why am I sitting with you? Why am I not having you send off of this ship?” Pellaeon winced at that last thought. Thrawn saw it and reached out. He put his hand over Pellaeon’s. “I won’t send you off the ship” he said, his voice low and soothing while he squeezed Pellaeon’s hand. “I need you too much to even consider it.”

Pellaeon gaped at him in surprise. The second word out of his mouth was “What”. He sure was scoring points on being an eloquent speaker this night. Thrawn let out a short sound. It sounded so unusual coming from him that it took Pellaeon a bit to realise he had chuckled. “I have never understood the Fleet’s reluctance about fraternization” he said “Distraction from a task at hand, of course, is not good. But a healthy love life is only beneficial to everyone.”

Pellaeon was still mulling over the words ‘love life’ coming from the Grand Admiral’s lips and didn’t immediately register the fact Thrawn had grabbed his hand and was giving him an intense look. “Gilad,” the use of his real name snapping him out of his thoughts “I don’t show my feelings easily. Over these past months I came to find myself relaxed and at ease with you. I would very much like to explore our personal relationship further.” Pellaeon could only squeeze his hand tightly in return.

“Though I have a request.” Thrawn continued, brow furrowing. “I would also very much like for you not to engage in further self destruction and take some rest.” Pellaeon wanted to argue at that, but the Chimaera had started to spin around him again and his headache hadn’t improved at all. Pellaeon yawned and relaxed into the pillows. “Will you stay?” he asked, feeling a little ridiculous for asking but liking the quiet company at his side. “Yes, Gilad” said Thrawn softly, “for a long time after this night, too, if you’ll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. But I needed something soft and cuddly and fluffy and sweet. The world needs something fluffy right now.


	12. Toybox - 1 - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which toys are used - EXPLICIT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh ok so.  
> This makes me nervous to share. I shared the idea with a friend and then it ran with me. It's explicit and really long (this is part 1) and I DON'T EVEN KNOW. I'll be in my trashcan.

**Toybox - 1 - Explicit content**

They’d talked about it before, of course. On a night Pellaeon had been relaxed enough to discuss some of his more unusual desires, he’d finally admitted to it. Thrawn had taken it all in calmly. He was always assuring Pellaeon he liked to learn about his lover and wouldn’t be disgusted by a request, but Gilad had spent too long in the military to openly discuss more exotic ideas. Being involved with his superior and being more or less open about that was already doing enough for his blood pressure at times.

Thrawn, ever the researcher and collecter of information, had taken in every word he’d spoken. He hadn’t commented further, just listening to Pellaeon with a glint in his eyes. They hadn’t spoken about it after, either. Pellaeon had even mostly forgotten about it, on board life had a way of having very little downtime.

It therefore came as a bit of a surprise to him to see just a box sitting innocently in front of Thrawn’s command chair when he entered their quarters for their after-lunch meeting. Thrawn himself was nowhere in sight. They’d been together long enough for Pellaeon to know he had probably laid this out with a plan in mind. The box must be sitting right in his walkway on purpose, then.

Hesitating slightly, he put the datacards he’d been holding away and walked to the box. It looked like a simple chest, in brown synthwood with some lighter brown accents. Looks could be deceiving, however. _Especially_ with Thrawn. He half expected the Grand Admiral to jump at him when he crouched down and reached to open the box, then reminded himself Thrawn would be above such cheap tricks. Probably.

He gasped when he saw what was in the box though.

“Good, you have found your price for tonight” Thrawn walked in. Pellaeon looked up slowly and just barely stifled another gasp. Thrawn was clad in full parade uniform. He had even opted to wear the white cape Pellaeon loved so much on him. Boots polished, golden epaulettes shining on his shoulders and standing in a perfect parade position, he looked magnificent. His eyes were focused on Pellaeon, his face not showing even a hint of emotion. “Take it out” he ordered.

Hoping his hands weren’t shaking, Pellaeon reached into the box and took out the large butt plug he’d found inside. He’d known it’d be there. Thrawn never did things halfway and they had discussed this. He still felt his nerves flutter as he took it out however. “Bring it here” Thrawn’s voice came again, claiming the space around him. Pellaeon got to his feet and walked towards him, not daring to look him in the eye. “You will look at me” Thrawn hissed at him. Looking up, he saw the same glint in Thrawn’s eyes that had been there when they’d discussed this all those weeks ago. Anticipation and nerves pooled in his belly.

Oh yes. They’d talked this through. Pellaeon had always been fascinated by the idea of being made to wear something like this in public. He knew it was a bad idea to want to do this on a ship on active duty. He knew it’d be horribly distracting. He hadn’t expected Thrawn to go along with it. And yet, a tiny part of him was hoping Thrawn would take this scenario all the way.

“You will wear this for me, until the end of the night shift,” Thrawn spoke again, immediately stopping Pellaeon’s thoughts. “And you will not be permitted to remove it or finish off before I tell you”. Pellaeon felt a shiver go down his spine at the steel in Thrawn’s voice. The Grand Admiral observed him. “What is the answer to that, _Captain_ ” he said, his voice taking on a hint of impatience. “Yes, sir.” Pellaeon said, feeling himself warm at the approval in Thrawn’s face.

“Good. Go and prepare yourself. You will then go on the bedroom and get yourself nice and stretched for me.” Thrawn looked at him and allowed his face to show his lust. That look always went right to Gilad’s crotch and today, with the anticipation about their new toy and Thrawn in full dress uniform, it just hit him harder. He let out an almost inaudible whimper. Thrawn smirked and stepped closer. “Prepare. Bedroom. Stretch. _Now_.” He gave out the words as short commands, the way he’d speak to a particularly new or unruly cadet. Pellaeon wanted to kiss those lips right then and there, but knew it would not be permitted. With another “Yes, sir” he made his way to the fresher.

A short while later, he walked into the bedroom. He had expected Thrawn to wait for him there, but he’d been wrong. He did find a tub of lube already set up on the nightstand. Well. Thrawn had wanted him to be ready and waiting. He licked his lips as he reached out to the lube. Settling onto the bed, he closed his eyes and called to mind the image of Thrawn in full dress uniform, ordering him to touch himself. Breathing a little harder, he set to work on doing as Thrawn had asked him to do.

No, not asked. _Ordered_. That distinction made him moan softly, eager to do as he had been told and eager to make the Grand Admiral proud of him. Once, he’d been ashamed of this, of being so submissive. Now, it made him painfully hard. He realized he was already leaking on the sheets as he was stretching himself.

“You did well” suddenly, Thrawn was there. Pellaeon opened his eyes to find him standing next to the bed, still fully dressed. Thrawn ran one gloved hand over his stomach. Pellaeon shuddered at the touch. “Very good” he praised, softly. “Remind me of your safeword”. Pellaeon blinked through the haze of his quiet headspace. Thrawn’s hand slowly ran through his hair. “The safeword, Captain." he said. “ _Chimaera_ ” he whispered. Thrawn’s hand ran down his cheek in approval. Knowing Pellaeon’s particular love for his voice, he began speaking as his still gloved hands explored his Captain. “You’ve prepared so well for me, Gilad. I saw you as I walked in, working yourself open and moaning for me.”

That voice. It ran over him with its smooth baritone, intoxicating him. He would without question do as that voice told him. He knew it, and Thrawn knew it. “Look at me” Thrawn ordered as his hand wrapped around Pellaeon’s cock and squeezed him. Pellaeon looked him in the eye as Thrawn stroked him, slowly, taking his time.

“I know what you want from me tonight,” he whispered, “but you will need to earn it.” To emphasize his words, he ran his finger over the tip of Pellaeon’s cock, gathering the fluids there. “You will not be permitted to come tonight” he said cooly as he swirled his finger, spreading the fluids. “Do I make myself clear?” “Yes sir” Pellaeon panted, fighting not to thrust into Thrawn’s hand. He got a dark chuckle in response.

As Thrawn reached to unclasp his cape, there was such lust in his eyes, Pellaeon almost had to look away. He still felt uncomfortable when Thrawn looked at him as if he was the finest art piece in the galaxy. He knew he’d pay for looking away, though, and kept his eyes on Thrawn. The Chiss raised an eyebrow in approval and crawled back on the bed. He looked down at Pellaeon and grinned.

“So ready” he said. “So very eager for it” His voice got lower as he looked over Pellaeon’s body spread out underneath him. He leaned down and lightly kissed Pellaeon’s chest, moving down towards his stomach as he alternated between light bites and kisses. Pellaeon was squirming underneath him, but Thrawn would have none of it and firmly held his hips into place. As he finally reached Pellaeon’s erection, he eyed it before slowly, agonizingly slowly, running his tongue over it. His higher body temperature added to the sensation and it became even harder to keep his eyes open.

Thrawn licked a still slow, lazy trail to his testicles, which he nuzzled. He moved further down to Pellaeon’s shaking thighs, licking and nipping them as well. His hands were still holding down Pellaeon’s hips, thumbs moving in circles over his skin. He moved up again, still taking his time, and stopped just over Pellaeon’s crotch again. Licking his lips, he looked Pellaeon in the eye. Whatever he saw on Pellaeon’s face pleased him greatly, because he moved down again and took his whole length in his mouth.

It was perfect. The Grand Admiral sucking him off in his dress uniform. Though he was still gripping Pellaeon’s hips and he did not dare disobey Thrawn’s order to keep looking, he also sensed they were much more equal here than anywhere else. Thrawn hummed deep in his throat, making Pellaeon moan out loud. He stopped every single time Pellaeon was close to coming. By the third time, he was shaking and sweating. By the fourth time, only looking at Thrawn’s eyes glittering dangerously at him kept him from cursing. The fifth time had him almost in tears. He was almost tempted to use his safeword when one of Thrawn’s hands left his hips.

He’d almost forgotten about it. Thrawn gave his penis one final lick and then sat back to watch Pellaeon, who was very much not looking at the thing in his hand. “Look at you,” Thrawn said, his voice husky, “look at you, you look wretched.” Thrawn made a delightful purring noise (the one he’d always deny afterwards) and ran his free hand all over his Captain. “And now, you’ll take this for me. You will wear it on the bridge. If you’re good, I will reward you.”

Pellaeon shuddered at those words. He was desperate to climax, but he knew Thrawn wouldn’t give it to him. He winced, just a little, as the tip of the toy was pressed against him. It had been his pick, but he had forgotten just how large it was. Thrawn noticed his discomfort and gently rubbed his stomach. “I know you can take it for me” he said softly. Pellaeon bit his lower lip, feeling himself twitch at hearing that come from Thrawn. As the toy filled him, he found Thrawn was right. He had to adjust to it, but Thrawn was nuzzling at him again in a most distracting way. It wasn’t long before he was panting again, desire rolling over him in waves.

Thrawn’s comlink pinged.

They both ignored it initially. When it pinged again, though, Thrawn sighed and took it. He kept one hand on Pellaeon’s chest, idly stroking him as he answered whoever had gotten it into their head to call him. “Well. Seems your time on the bridge will be longer,” Thrawn said as he started to get off the bed. “I…what?” Pellaeon said, still achingly hard. “That was Piett, the Rebel assault force we’ve been following dropped out of hyperspace.” Thrawn’s voice changed as he faced Pellaeon “And I expect you to wear this. You will have to do your duties as usual. I will know if you cheat.” The red eyes flashed at him. Pellaeon felt his mouth go dry. “Yes, sir” was the only thing he could choke out. Thrawn smirked, then left to change into his regular uniform, leaving Pellaeon to try and collect himself enough to get dressed.

The following hours were some of the most difficult and arousing of his life. Whenever he slightly shifted his stance, the plug would rub against his prostate in a most delicious way. He’d had to focus on the most disturbing images he could think of in an effort to keep his erection down. It was torture, but torture of a most delicious kind. It didn’t at all help Thrawn was being insufferable and constantly calling Pellaeon over towards him for some task or another. He could only hope his odd walk wasn’t noticeable.

They dealt with the Rebel task force quickly and efficiently. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem for Thrawn to call a meeting with his Captain. Today though, he seemed insistent on keeping them both on the bridge. “Man, he seems positively cheerful today,” Maximilian Veers whispered to Pellaeon. “Wonder what got up him.” “No idea.” Pellaeon said, rather curtly. Veers threw him an odd look but Pellaeon had no time to explain because Thrawn had just called him over again. Barely suppressing a shiver of pleasure, he carefully walked over, feeling Veers’ eyes burning in his back.

And damn it if the corners of Thrawn’s mouth didn’t turn up ever so slightly when he had Pellaeon bend over a console next to him.

He very carefully sat down for dinner, wincing a little as the toy shifted inside him. Max Veers and Firmus Piett were already seated and were thankfully too focused on their dinners to notice. Good. Just the evening shift to go then. “Gil, you’ve been having the weirdest walk. You look like you sat down on a—“ very abruptly, Veers stopped talking. His face took on a rather shellshocked look. “Oh good Force forget I ever said that, I don’t want to keep thinking now” with that, he gathered his tray and left, rather in a hurry. Sometimes, the man was more insightful than was really good for him. Pellaeon hoped his blush wouldn’t be obvious to his remaining tablemate. Piett looked up from his plate very slowly, seemed to want to speak and then shook his head, focusing on his food again. He muttered something about horny Grand Admirals and their Captains but thankfully did not take offense. As Pellaeon’s superior, he could technically pull rank and report him. Pellaeon sighed in relief and slumped down a little in his chair. He immediately sat back up as the toy poked inside him.

“Do us all a favour,” said Firmus, eyes still very firmly on his plate. “Get laid tonight, for Force’s sake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nosebleeds* back into the sinbin to write part 2 huh


	13. Toybox - 2 - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we find Thrawn likes to manhandle his Captain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the sweet comments and kudos, everyone! I'm so glad so many of you are reading all this <3 Bless you, you keep me going so here's part 2 as a big thank you.

Toybox - 2 - Explicit

He had thought he’d get through the evening shift with ease, after having spent most of the day with their new toy inside of him. He was wrong. Thrawn had gotten even more insufferable and was constantly in his space, leaning against him, casually touching his shoulder or arm. He still had Pellaeon walk around for the smallest of reasons, watching him. To anyone else, the smirk on his face may not have been visible. To Pellaeon, it stood out like a beacon. Thrawn was enjoying this a lot. That pleased him, frustrating as it may be to walk everywhere with that toy inside him. He longed to be off duty and find relief. He would never admit it to Thrawn (he had his Corellian pride), but he longed to hear Thrawn praise him for taking the toy so well. He wanted those hands on him, wanted to scream his name as he came.

_If_ Thrawn would allow it. He better would, though. Piett and Veers were close friends and thus likely to pick up on odd behavior, but he’d hate to think of Thrawn’s reaction if any of the crew thought he was behaving out of the ordinary. At least thoughts of Thrawn’s reaction to that kept him occupied enough not to get hot and bothered on the bridge. Thank the galaxy for small favours.

It seemed the evening ran on endlessly. Whenever he thought they’d finally be able to retire, another report would come in. In fact, there was an unusually large amount of reports coming in. Where Thrawn would normally have them delivered to his desk in the morning, he was now studying each of them as if they were the most important things ever to be delivered to them. Pellaeon shifted from one foot to the other as he grew increasingly more and more aware of the plug still inside of him. Blast it if Thrawn wasn’t practically radiating innocence.

As he bend over a display he became aware his hands were shaking. He silently thanked whoever had designed their uniforms to be made out of thick synthwool, otherwise he was sure to be sporting a wet spot now. He clenched his hands around the display unit, not willing to give up but also not sure just how much longer he could stand here. A presence at his side put a stop to his increasingly more desperate thoughts. Thrawn.

The Grand Admiral leaned over him, apparently interested in something on the displays. The whispered words that came over his lips though, were very much not work related. “You’ve been so good for me. Come to our quarters in 10 minutes.” Just like that, he walked off of the bridge. Ignoring a pointed cough coming from the general direction of Maximilian Veers, he stared at the display, cheeks burning.

When he did finally manage to walk off the bridge (with dignity intact, hopefully) he had to lean against the wall of the turbolift. He was panting, his brow sweaty. He made a halfhearted attempt to stand upright when the lift arrived at their quarters, but shivered when the plug shifted and brushed against his now over-sensitive prostate again.

He stepped into the room, once more seeing just an empty command chair and the now empty box. He could have sobbed in frustration. He ran a shaking hand over his cheek, praying to whatever deity there was that Thrawn would pick up on his mood somehow and not keep him waiting even longer. He was sure that if he’d try to finish himself off now, it’d be over in seconds.

He needn’t have worried. Thrawn stepped into the room, back in his full dress uniform, cape billowing behind him as he walked towards Pellaeon. He walked with measured steps, calm and completely in control of the situation. His calm act helped Pellaeon find his balance again. Thrawn was there. He’d be taken care of. He could let go and let Thrawn handle the situation for him.

Thrawn closed the distance between them and ran his hands down Pellaeon’s arms. “I saw you shake on the bridge,” he said, his voice unusually rough, “I could have taken you right then and there.” Pellaeon shivered even more at that. Thrawn’s hands got busy removing his belt and tunic, while he claimed Pellaeon’s mouth in a heated kiss. Judging by Thrawn’s claiming kiss, he wasn’t as calm as he was trying to show himself to be.

That point was further proven when Thrawn was getting frustrated with Pellaeon’s undershirt and opted to tear it off entirely. Sometimes, Pellaeon forgot how strong Thrawn was. The alien growled in frustration at having to take off Pellaeon’s boots, but he did bend down to do so. Pellaeon couldn’t help but moan when he had to lift each foot in turn, that position causing the plug to poke him again. Thrawn had to steady him as he pulled down his trousers. His underwear was ripped off with similar lack of patience and Thrawn gathered him in his arms, hungrily kissing him again. “Do you have any idea” he hissed, as they broke apart, “ _do you have any idea_ how much I wanted to take you right there, bend over that display.” He growled and bit down on the spot of Pellaeon’s neck that always made him moan.

Thrawn’s hot breath moved over his neck as he took Pellaeon’s earlobe between his teeth and tugged on it. “I wanted to tell everyone to get out, bend you further over that display and take you until you came all over it” he growled, hands groping Pellaeon’s ass. He was rarely like this, and it was always unplanned. Nothing remained of his initial calm, he was as much as the end of his endurance as Pellaeon was. He braced himself by putting his arms around Thrawn’s shoulders. Thrawn was fingering the edge of the plug, making pleased noises.

“You wore it very well for me,” he said, hands running over his back and scratching lightly. “But I will claim you as mine now.” Before Pellaeon had a chance to prepare, Thrawn lifted him up as if he weighed nothing. His back came into contact with the cold wall, but he didn’t even have time to register that as he felt Thrawn remove the plug. He winced at the sudden emptiness. Putting his legs around Thrawn’s hips as he was held up in those inhumanly strong arms, he rubbed against the hardness in Thrawn’s uniform pants. The embarrassing sound that came from him at that contact alone made him flush, but Thrawn clearly liked it for he ground himself against Pellaeon. It was good, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

Thrawn pressed him harder against the wall, just as effortlessly holding him up with one arm while he unzipped his uniform trousers and fished a bottle of lube out of his pocket. As he ran a slick hand over himself, he kissed Pellaeon again, taking his bottom lip between his and sucking it greedily. He almost howled as Thrawn slammed into him, hot and slick and just right. For a moment, Thrawn didn’t move. He had Pellaeon firmly pressed between himself and the wall, and was staring at him, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

The first thrust made Pellaeon moan his name. The second and third made him shout. Thrawn didn’t settle into a rhythm. Instead, he took Pellaeon hard with hurried thrusts, hitting the spot that had been teased so mercilessly all day on the bridge. Being held in place like this with Thrawn still in full uniform was almost enough by itself to make him come.

“You have been…so good…” Thrawn panted, his thrusts becoming even more frantic. He pulled Pellaeon even tighter against his own body and whispered into his ear “Come for me”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a howl that made him thank soundproofed quarters later, he came, splattering Thrawn’s uniform, feeling himself contract around Thrawn. Spurts of wet heat told him Thrawn very much approved of his loudness. The Grand Admiral’s arms were almost crushing him as he climaxed.

Thrawn’s arms shook around Pellaeon as he very carefully settled them both down on the floor. Pellaeon ended sitting in his lap and kept his legs around the Chiss’ hips, keeping him inside himself as he felt Thrawn soften. Thrawn was resting his chin on Pellaeon’s head, his hands absentmindedly rubbing his back. Pellaeon could have nodded off right there, but Thrawn winced after a few minutes. “I should really consider floor heating” he muttered, joints popping as he got up and lifted Pellaeon up to his feet as well.

Thrawn took a look at Pellaeon who was swaying on his feet, blinking against his sudden tiredness. He let out a soft laugh and picked him up in his arms again, carrying him to the bathroom. One of the extra luxuries of being a Grand Admiral was having a decently sized tub in the fresher. It was also, Pellaeon mused as he was slowly being helped into the hot water, one of the extra luxuries of dating said Grand Admiral.

Breakfast the next day was uneventful, save for Firmus Piett taking a quick look at Pellaeon and looking back at his plate with a slight smile around his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sweats


	14. Sleep & Night Terrors - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes sleep comes easy,  
> sometimes it is full of terrors  
> (General - Fluff & Hurt/Comfort)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously guys Gilad's nightmares in the Hand of Thrawn duology GAVE ME FEELS.

**Sleep**

He is used to this kind of thing. A quick fling between officers, to take the tension off. He’s always had an eye for the nicer things in life. On board a stardestroyer, love is always quick and for just the night. In the morning, protocol calls and a hasty retreat is made.

He hadn’t expected this to be different. A few looks and touches here and there, ending the night in bed. The sex had been intense. He hadn’t been with a man in years and had almost forgotten how good it felt. Afterwards, he had expected to get his clothes handed to him so he could go back for the night. He sure did not expect to be put into a hot bath, cleaned up, dried off and put in a soft bed, cuddled up together.

Of course, it helped his bed partner of the night was Grand Admiral Thrawn, who never seemed to do anything by the book.

He’d been nursing a crush on his superior for quite some time now. Something he’d have been willing to ignore if it weren’t for the fact this particular superior seemed to have radically different ideas about personal space. Thrawn was always standing close enough for him to feel the heat radiate off of his body. It had been doing weird things to his judgement.

After their Sluis Van victory, they’d had a party. Pellaeon had had a few drinks, not enough to get drunk, just relaxed enough to ask Thrawn for a dance. Rather unexpectedly, the alien had agreed. It somehow did not come as a surprise he was a good dancer, leading his Captain over the floor.

It had come as a surprise when the Grand Admiral had kissed him. In plain view of all the other officers. When Pellaeon had been too stunned to kiss him back Thrawn had looked lost and insecure, pulling away. Pellaeon had grabbed his hands and clumsily kissed him back. Someone (Pellaeon would later suspect his friend Maximilian) whistled and started a round of applause.

They’d somehow made it to bed where they’d engaged in some activities that Pellaeon knew had given him a good collection of fantasies for months of lonely nights.

And now they were lying in Thrawn’s bed. The Chiss had somehow managed to arrange him in such a way that he was mostly on Thrawn rather than on the mattress. He’d never been the one for cuddling, or so he told himself. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was feeling rather comfortable in Thrawn’s arms. In fact, he didn’t want to leave. Not tonight, at least.

Thrawn’s hands rubbing his back, Pellaeon felt himself go drowsy. He’d stay for the night. He’d see in the morning what this was going to be. That’d be the best course of action. Right now, he just wanted to float to sleep in Thrawn’s warm embrace. He breathed in deeply, taking in Thrawn’s own scent below that of the soap he’d used. It reminded him of spices and, somehow, home.

He was just about to scold himself for turning into a soft old man when a sound jerked him out of his musings. Was that….was Thrawn…  
He let out a snort of laughter quickly muffled against Thrawn’s chest not to wake him. Grand Admiral Thrawn, proud Warlord, feared by many across the galaxy…purred. It was a strangely hypnotic sound, Pellaeon found as he’d settled back down. It was a pleasant sound to fall asleep to, rumbling softly in his ears.

He wouldn’t mind not leaving at all anymore.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

**Night terrors**

Blood. Blood was always the first thing he saw. Blood slowly trickling down an all-white uniform, making an ugly stain.

He was rooted on the spot. He couldn’t move. If only he could move he’d perhaps be able to stop the inevitable. But his legs wouldn’t cooperate. He tried screaming for help, but no sound came from his painful throat. If only someone would turn around and do something.

The Grand Admiral, his chest now soaked with blood, stirred in his chair as he looked at his Captain. There was a bitter disappointment in those eyes.

_All is lost thanks to you._  
_You left me._  
_Why didn’t you help me?_

The light in those red eyes dimmed and he so wanted to move from his spot, to at least be there for the final moments, but he could not. The blood spread and he was still stuck there and—

Chaos. Someone was saying something in hoarse cries. Nothing made sense. He was no longer on the deck but he still couldn’t move and he had to, otherwise he’d see Thrawn die again.

With a sudden ripping sound, he was freed of the sheets that had entangled around him. “What..” he croaked out before he was crushed in a firm embrace. Hot skin against his, hands stroking his back and through his hair and then the voice that’d always ground him.

“Ch'ah cart cseah” said the voice. He didn’t understand the words but something in his brain did, because a calmness came over him. He realized it had been his cries he’d heard. Confused, he struggled weakly against the arms holding him firmly. “No, it’s all right, I am here. You are safe. We are on Coruscant.” The voice came back, washing over him like a soothing lullaby. He found it easier to breathe now. “That’s right. Just breathe with me.” said the voice, hands still rubbing his back and neck, soothing the pain in the muscles there.

Breathing in the familiar scent, hearing the soothing words wash over him, Gilad Pellaeon felt like a fool. It was always the same stupid nightmare. He thought he’d be over it by now. Especially because the subject of said nightmare was in bed with him at that very moment. He should be over it. Thrawn of all people shouldn’t be the one to need to comfort him.

“Your thoughts are going the wrong way again” Thrawn said calmly. “We’ve talked about this.” Right, they had. Thrawn always ensured him nightmares were a natural part of working through a trauma. He had ensured Pellaeon he, too, had had them as he was still in the medwing. None of his reassurances ever seemed to stick. Not when it was the dead of the night and he’d just been back on that bridge again.

Thrawn squeezed him closer. “Come on. Let’s step outside for some air.” Silently, Pellaeon let Thrawn help him up. Firmly pulled against the Grand Admiral’s side, he was led to the balcony overlooking the Imperial City. As they stood, silently watching the never-sleeping traffic, Pellaeon forced himself to ask the question. “How can you still be with me if I don’t seem to get over this?” He hunched his shoulders waiting for the answer. It had been eating away at him for ages, feeling as if he was holding Thrawn back from important matters such as leading his Empire. He was getting too old to feel this insecure, but he had long since learned feelings weren’t always rational.

“Gilad Pellaeon” Thrawn began, turning Pellaeon to face him, his eyes so intense Pellaeon had to look away for a moment. “Don’t you ever feel like you are holding me back, or like you are a bother to me. I’d give anything to help you through this. If you are not by my side, I feel incomplete. It was you who got me through recovering. If you ever doubt your importance to me, then I have failed as your husband.” He said it with such conviction, Pellaeon had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.

As Thrawn pulled him into an embrace, Gilad Pellaeon, official member of the Mitth Family, thought maybe things would be all right. And if they wouldn’t, at least he wouldn’t face them alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upcoming:
> 
> \- More for Home for the Holidays (it's not updated as quickly as this one sorry guys!)  
> \- A beach trip  
> \- A night at the play  
> \- Museum sex OH snap  
> \- Hit me up with prompts :D


	15. Beach - General - Humour/fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thrawn has to agree with Anakin Skywalker. Sand is rough and irritating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for something cute and silly. I got this from fanficy-prompts.tumblr.com which I really recommend to solve writers blocks :)  
> The planet Spira I got from the Star Wars wiki, apparently it's a beach planet :D

Pellaeon could hardly wait for their upcoming PR trip to Spira. In the old days, the planet had been somewhat of a pleasure beach resort for Moffs and Grand Moffs. Nowadays, it had grown up a little, though Veers ensured them it still had very good bars and clubs. They’d sit through the meeting, meet all the local dignitaries, then have the entire afternoon to themselves. An entire afternoon to feel the sand between his toes and maybe even take a dip in one of the oceans.

Of course, it did mean having to sit through a meeting with the other high ranking officers. Veers had cheerily waved them goodbye and had trotted off to a nearby beach along with the other officers on leave. As much as he liked to get his nose into bridge business, as soon as any of the as he called it “sleep inducing Navy bull” came on, he always made a hasty retreat. Sitting in a hot room listening to the planet’s governor drone on about their fantastic plan to house more citizens in housing paid for with Imperial money, Pellaeon wished he could do the same.

He threw a casual glance to the other side of the table. Only long time practice serving with Lord Vader kept Piett’s face in check. He still looked interested, but Pellaeon knew Firmus better and knew he was probably considering the latest book he read and was only pretending to listen. Thrawn was as expressionless as ever, sitting straight in his chair and looking at the governor.

Pellaeon allowed his mind to wander a bit, keeping half an ear on the governor’s talk. He’d had to explain the whole sitting on a beach concept to Thrawn. Coming from an ice planet, he was well versed into the joys of hot springs, but the thought of just sitting around in sand and doing nothing had fascinated him. Pellaeon had to go out and get him swimming trunks. As he’d found out on a recent visit to Csilla, Chiss did not wear bathing clothes. He absolutely didn’t mind, but the Grand Admiral relaxing on a beach in the nude would probably raise a few eyebrows.

He felt Thrawn still hadn’t been entirely convinced about the beach (to be fair, he sometimes questioned if Chiss were just simply very hard to please), but he was willing to give it a chance for Pellaeon’s sake. That was enough for him.

The activity around Pellaeon increased and he realized the meeting was finally over. After the obligatory exchange of handshakes and the usual ‘the Empire cares deeply about you’, they were free to go. It felt odd, for those first few moments. They didn’t get to go off the ship nearly enough, even if Thrawn was forever trying to drag them along on these trips. They simply stood outside for a while and enjoyed the sun on their faces.

“I have heard humans can burn to what I’ve been told is a crisp red, let us not find out if you can achieve it today” Thrawn said, ushering them to the beachside dressing rooms. They dressed in their swimming gear, leaving their uniforms in a locker. That’s where they met difficulty number one of the day. The locker worked by putting a coin in it, twisting the lock then closing it. Somehow, those steps had to come closer together than any steps on putting together a new superlaser. Thrawn tried to will the locker into submission by glowering at it, but when that didn’t work Pellaeon resorted to the old Corellian favourite of just giving it a bang with your fist. It worked, though Pellaeon made a mental note he was no longer 20 and should be careful about fistfights with inanimate objects.

A little flustered, they made their way to the beach. Once they’d found a comfortable spot away from some of the younger lieutenants, Thrawn pointedly handed out sunblock. Pellaeon took some pleasure in having Thrawn lotion up his back, but couldn’t help but snort at Piett’s increasingly uncomfortable face as Thrawn insisted on likewise covering his back. Sunblock applied, dignity made intact again and shades on, they were ready for some serious beach relaxing.

That is until they ran into difficulty number two of the day. Thrawn did not enjoy sand. Not even one bit. He had been fascinated by the idea, yes, but was not quite as fascinated by reality. He meticulously removed every bit of it from his towel, only to have the wind blow it on again. He grumbled and set to remove it again. This scenario repeated itself a few times. Pellaeon was watching it worriedly, but Piett seemed vaguely amused. “You should have seen Darth Vader when we visited here once. Flew into a total rage about the sand, he did. Told me all about he hates sand because it’s so rough and irritating. It probably got up his helmet or something.”

Thrawn, always a strategist, knew when to admit defeat in a battle. Slowly, with a face as if he was being asked to sit in Bantha excrement, he sat down on his towel. He looked extremely out of place on the beach. As they settled in his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, a slight sea breeze messing his hair a little. Piett had taken out a book and was stretched out on his stomach to read. The people around them were too busy playing ball or getting out in the sea, so Pellaeon carefully reached out to stroke Thrawn’s hand. Ah, bliss.

Difficulty three of the day came in the shape of Maximilian Veers. He walked over the beach with a confident swagger. Spending more time with ground troops than the other men, he was more tanned and clearly happy to show off some skin. He was also possibly a little drunk. Pellaeon settled in for the show. Max was a very loyal friend, but sometimes he could do with a filter between his brain and his mouth.

Max plonked down on Pellaeon’s towel, spreading sand on Thrawn’s. He didn’t appear to notice the glower coming his way, or perhaps he’d gotten used to it. He had never flinched around Darth Vader either and took pride in that fact. Pellaeon became aware of Piett looking up from his book. He, too, was getting ready for the show. “You guys,” Max began, Thrawn’s eyebrow slowly raising towards his hairline at the informal greeting. “There is this bar, no, hear me out. You have to see it. We can all have a drink and let our hair down a little.”

“It seems you’ve already let down your hair, General Veers” Thrawn said, not entirely disapproving. Interesting. Veers didn’t even flinch. “Well, of course, us army types know how to have fun.” He made a wide arm gesture, almost knocking off Pellaeon’s sunglasses. “Look around you. Is sitting here really the best you can do for fun? Some of us still get out there you know.” Thrawn straightened up on his towel, meeting Veers’ eye. Pellaeon braced himself for a reprimand, but he should have known better than that, for Thrawn smirked and asked “Is that a challenge, General?” “Sure is, Admiral.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, then, following that unspoken rule of competition between males since the start of the galaxy, they got up and ran to the ocean. Piett had turned on his back to watch the proceedings. “Did we…did we just witness a macho race between the Grand Admiral and the General?” he said, book lying forgotten next to him. “Yep.” Pellaeon said, noticing with some pride that Thrawn had reached the water earlier, but only just. Not that he was keeping track, of course. It was just nice to see him win.

Thrawn and Veers had both dived into the water and were standing in it waist deep. Veers then made the colossal mistake of shoulder bumping Thrawn. For a moment Pellaeon was sure this would end in Veers’ immediate demotion, but Thrawn had always shown him a lot of tolerance. The tolerance did not go far enough for him not to get his own back. He simply picked the General up, ignoring his shouts of protest, and dumped him in the deeper water. That seemed to have settled the matter for now, for Thrawn made his slow and leisurely way back to them. Sputtering a little, Veers was on his heels.

“Only wounded pride” Thrawn assured them as he sat back down, running a hand through his now wet hair. Pellaeon was too busy being distracted by the way his hair stood up while he did that. He heard a hastily cut off snort of amusement come from Piett. Hoping his blush would be mistaken for a somewhat out of hand suntan, he opened his mouth to quickly change the subject. “So, how was the water?” It was the most obvious of subject changes since the invention of subject changes and they all knew it.

“Do you guys _seriously_ believe people will care you’re together?” Veers said. “I mean, I’m pretty sure everyone on the Chimaera knows and no one cares. Apart from the rumors about what Thrawn looks like out of uniform of course. Everyone is real curious about-“

“Thank you, General” Thrawn said, emphasizing the rank part. He did look somewhat pensive, however, as if he’d just realized something and wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

Difficulty number four was, not even surprising, the bar Veers took them to. They first had to work back through difficulty one, though, for now the locker was very stubbornly refusing to open to give them their uniforms. Maximilian insisted they’d be fine without, but Army standards were not always Navy standards. (Even if Pellaeon felt Thrawn could go without.) Another short burst of Corellian fixing later, they were back in uniform, Thrawn grumbling he could still feel sand in his boots. Some additional Corellian stubbornness later, they’d also convinced Max to at least wear his undershirt and uniform pants, which he grabbed out of a locker that somehow did work with him.

The bar was indeed something. That much could be said about it. Thrawn had whipped out his shades again to protect his more light sensitive eyes from the flashing lights. Unfortunately, he hadn’t brought anything to protect him from the terrible music. If one could call it music. “We’re too old for this” said Piett, inching towards the exit again. “No, you don’t,” said Veers, grabbing him by the arm. “One drink only Firmus, then you can leave again. I’d just really like to hang out with my friends.” Veers did that hurt kicked ysalamir look that honestly shouldn’t work so well on a grown man so tall, but it did, and so they had drinks.

Difficulty number 5 was the substandard alcohol. Thrawn winced, then finished the entire glass in one gulp. Piett had spotted an acquaintance and was now in a deep discussion, slightly smoking drink entirely forgotten. Pellaeon had had one sip and was looking around for a plant to subtly dispose the rest of it in. Veers was the only one that looked to be having a good time, tapping his foot to the music and waving at friends coming in and out.

“Excuse me” Veers said, and slipped off to the dance floor. How he managed to dance on music that sounded suspiciously like one of the late Grand Moff Tarkin’s torture holos, Pellaeon wasn’t sure. But dance he did. Sometimes, he was jealous of Veers. He was extremely good at his job, an excellent strategist…and he somehow got away with totally not caring about protocol at times like these.

An image of him and Thrawn dancing rose to mind unbidden. Even if he felt a little too old for this kind of music, the thought of them grinding together on the dancefloor was a good one. It was also entirely impossible. On short leave or not, they had at least some image to hold up. It was one thing for General Maximilian Veers to go out and dance, but another for Grand Admiral Thrawn. Pellaeon sighed and stirred his drink. Veers had been right. People weren’t very likely to care. Not anymore, not now Thrawn ran the Empire.

“Want to sneak off to the beach?” Thrawn had moved up close and whispered in his ear, his breath ghosting over Pellaeon’s skin. “If we go now, we can see the sunset and be back before they miss us” It sounded amazing. He let Thrawn pull him to his feet and they gladly left the noisy bar.

The beach was mostly empty now. With the sun going down, the temperature was dropping rapidly. It suited them just fine. Pellaeon shivered in the cooler sea breeze and as they sat down, Thrawn pulled him to sit between his legs. Wrapping his arms around his Captain, his body heat kept the chill away. Thrawn’s chin rested on his head. They didn’t speak as they watched the sun set over Spira, only hearing the waves of the ocean crash on the beach.

All too soon for Pellaeon’s tastes, dusk fell. Thrawn kissed the top of his head. “We better go check on the others. I don’t really want to unleash Veers in there for too long” he said, though he didn’t get up. “Yeah, we should” Pellaeon said, voice trailing off as Thrawn started kissing his neck.

Difficulty six of the day was also about sand getting everywhere. But they somehow didn’t mind as much anymore.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you wonder about Pellaeon's "recent visit to Csilla" seeing naked Chiss:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/2596598


	16. Turbolift - 1 - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being stuck in a turbolift is much better with a Chiss at your side  
> (Cute, fluffy edition)

Pellaeon hummed to himself as he gathered up the datacards after this morning’s meetings. Things were going well. If they kept on target, they’d make Coruscant within the month. Coruscant. The Imperial City. It had seemed like an impossible dream after Endor, but now, now they had a chance. They had that chance thanks to the man sitting at the head of the table.

Grand Admiral Thrawn.

It had been over a year since he’d taken command of the Fleet. After some initial discomfort, he and Thrawn had started working together like a well-oiled machine. It sometimes felt as if his commander could read minds, though Thrawn assured him he had no Jedi powers. They had gotten closer professionally, but the person behind the Grand Admiral uniform was still a mystery to everyone aboard the ship.

Maybe, once they’d conquered Coruscant, they could have some time off. Pellaeon was interested to learn more about his mysterious alien commander. He know of his fascination with art, of course, but very little else. He wasn’t even sure if he had a homeplanet and people waiting for him or not.

Taking the stack of datacards, he turned to exit the meeting room. “Wait up, Captain” came the Grand Admiral’s smooth voice. “I will join you in the bridge.” Thrawn fell into step next to him, not speaking as they walked towards the turbolift. It was a comfortable silence, though, as usual with them.

As the turbolift doors closed, Pellaeon was intensely aware of the Grand Admiral standing close to him in the cramped space. From the very beginning, Thrawn had never cared much for personal space. He’d lean over Pellaeon at the bridge, or sit close next to him at dinner, their legs touching. It had never been awkward or uncomfortable, as if it was the most right thing at work.

He was jostled out of his thought when the turbolift came to a halt with a loud chunking, grinding sound, shaking the car and lights flickering. “What in the name of the Force…” he ground out, grabbing the safety rail to not fall over. Thrawn had reacted fast and punched the emergency button, checking the readout on the small display.

He shook his head at what he saw. “Get comfortable, Captain. Ship wide shutdown. Expected rescue is in one standard hour if not longer.” Pellaeon swallowed nervously. He’d never liked cramped spaces, it had been a struggle getting through certain exams at the Academy. Suddenly, the turbolift seemed stuffy, intimidating. He hoped his face didn’t betray his nerves.

“Are you all right, Captain?” It was, of course, foolish to hope to hide something like that from a Grand Admiral with an uncanny ability to read his every thought from his facial expression alone. “Just not the biggest fan of small spaces, sir” Pellaeon said, hoping to downplay the situation enough to not get in trouble. Thrawn studied him, worrying Pellaeon that he’d already be in trouble. Officers were expected to not suffer from things such as claustrophobia, of course, it was considered grounds for demotion.

Again, he had been foolish. “It must have been difficult to pass the tests at the Academy,” Thrawn said, a gentleness in his voice Pellaeon hadn’t heard before. “It was,” Pellaeon admitted, “I almost didn’t go.” “I’m glad you did” Thrawn replied “I would have missed out on the finest Captain in the Fleet otherwise.”

Pellaeon blushed a deep shade of red and was struggling to think of a reply a little more extensive than ‘thank you’ when the turbolift made another clanking sound and the ground seemed to drop from beneath his feet. He let out an extremely undignified and not-worthy-of-an-officer yelp. The walls seemed to rush towards him even more and he felt his throat constrict. Sweat dripping from his brow, his vision blackened.

He became aware of a voice talking to him as he opened his eyes again. The first thing he saw was the turbolift’s ceiling. He groaned. Not the best of career moves to pass out from a panic attack in front of your superior. He became slowly aware of Thrawn’s hand on his shoulder. He was crouched down next to Pellaeon, talking to him in a language Pellaeon had never heard before. He didn’t understand a word, but there was a soothing quality to it, especially because it was being delivered in Thrawn’s baritone voice.

“Thank the stars you’re awake,” Thrawn said when he noticed Pellaeon had opened his eyes. “My knowledge of human health could use some improving, I admit.” He said it in such a dry matter of fact tone that Pellaeon couldn’t help but smile a little. Thrawn smiled back, a subtle movement of his mouth. He gently pushed down on Pellaeon’s shoulder when he tried to sit up. “Stay down a bit longer. If you are anything like Chiss, you’ll pass out again if you get up too quickly.”

Pellaeon resettled on the none too comfortable floor, now realizing Thrawn had taken off his uniform tunic and had tucked it under his Captain’s head. He was strangely touched. Still feeling a little dizzy, he didn’t quite think through his next words. “Chiss? So there are more of you…” he mused, before his eyes widened when he realized he’d said that out loud.

Thrawn studied him for a moment and then seemed to made up his mind. “There’s a lot of us out there” he said, his fingers now absentmindedly stroking Pellaeon’s shoulder, pleasantly warm even through the thick fabric of his uniform. He seemed to sense his words were successful at distracting Pellaeon from their current situation, because he settled to sit down on the floor next to him and stared off into space while talking on. “I come from the planet Csilla, deep in the Unknown Regions…though they are of course far less unknown to me. We’ve always been a space minded people, and our Ascendancy now holds quite a few worlds. We disagreed on some fundamental military principles though, so I was…I left.”

Pellaeon noticed the way he’d finished that last sentence, but he didn’t dare break the spell by asking. Thrawn seemed a little taken aback with himself for telling his Captain about his homeworld. Pellaeon hastened to encourage him to keep talking. “Would you like to go back there, sir?” he asked. Thrawn smiled, but it was a wistful smile. “One always misses their own people. I sometimes feel I have little to come back to, but I miss being home. I have not always enjoyed my time with humans, present company excluded” at that, he gave Pellaeon a genuinely affectionate smile which only made him blush all over again.

Pellaeon felt his hand still on his shoulder and found himself wishing he’d not take it away again. Shifting slightly to get more comfortable, he let his cheek come into contact with Thrawn’s hand. Thrawn looked at his hand still on Pellaeon’s shoulder, then resumed his gentle stroking.

“Actually, my brother and I once got lost in a cave. It is a small miracle I do not suffer from claustrophobia. We were in there for hours, lost in the pitch dark in that cramped cave, until they found us. Chiss children are, I think, no less foolish than human children at times…” Thrawn talked about his brother and his icy frozen home and Pellaeon closed his eyes, letting his thoughts take him there. In his mind’s eye, he saw Csilla and the sights Thrawn was describing. As he let his thoughts float away from the oppressive feeling of the turbolift, he was aware of a hotter than human hand ever so gently stroking his cheek.

He did not mind the turbolift so much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote an adult counterpart to this which I'll edit and put up hopefully tomorrow :)


	17. Turbolift - 2 - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The naughty raunchy turbolift edition (Veers has wonderful ideas!)

Pellaeon sneaked a look at Thrawn. They’d agreed on having lunch together after the morning bridge shift, but he was still busy with the latest reports rolling in. Keeping their relationship within professional levels while on duty was one thing, but all too often lately Thrawn would get lost in work. It was understandable, but he wished the Grand Admiral would also take time to relax together. They were due to strike on Coruscant soon so of course Thrawn was occupied, but they didn’t really see each other outside their shifts on the bridge anymore. “You’ve been tapping that datapen against the display for the past five minutes, do you mind?” Veers, sitting across him interrupted his thoughts. His grey eyes followed Pellaeon’s gaze and comprehension drew across his face.

“Meant to go to lunch together?” he said, rolling his chair closer to Pellaeon’s. Pellaeon gave a curt nod. Veers threw a casual look around to ensure no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve noticed your beau seems to be working a lot lately. Everything all right?” Pellaeon faced him then. “Work always comes first, we are on duty officers on an Imperial warship and we—" Veers interrupted him with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, that’s wonderful, except you keep giving him those super longing looks. A fool could see it.”

Pellaeon considered this. Yes, he’d been missing being with Thrawn. He had to be honest with himself. He really missed the sex. Not that he was going to tell that to Veers, of course. And what was he going to do about it, anyway? He could hardly jump Thrawn on the bridge. Whenever he finally came to their quarters deep in the ship’s night, he’d either do more work, or collapse on the bed. Even if Pellaeon didn’t blame him, he couldn’t help but feel the sting.

“You know,” Veers said pensively “You could take turbolift B-12 to the officer’s mess. It’s not used often. You could accidentally tap the override button and leave it hanging for a bit then go to town on him. It won’t broadcast an alarm unless you keep it hanging longer than 10 minutes.” Pellaeon flushed at the go to town part, but a part of him felt intrigued. He wasn’t about to ask how Veers knew about that particular lift being good for this sort of thing, or how he knew about its 10 minute limit, but he did store the knowledge away. “We will be fine, thank you.” He said, turning his chair to face his display again. Max muttered a short “uh-huh” and rolled back to his spot.

It was coincidence, of course, that Pellaeon’s feet took him to turbolift B-12 when Thrawn finally did join him. Pure coincidence. He wasn’t going to jump the Grand Admiral like some lovesick, overly hormonal teenager. Of course not.

He noticed the area was indeed quiet. Of course, he only noticed this because it was always a good idea to keep an eye out on one’s surroundings. It’s not like he had any further meaning with this. As they stepped into the lift, his eyes were drawn to the command screen. Of course, it was always a good idea to know your way around such a command screen. Just in case something happened. Nothing more.

He surprised even himself by slamming the override button, pinning the turbolift in place. Thrawn, who had been looking at a report he’d taken along, looked up in surprise at the lift’s sudden stop. “Must be broken again,” he grumbled, “I’ve been telling the techs to—“

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Pellaeon wildly claimed his lips in a kiss. It was a little clumsier than he had planned, and for a few seconds he was convinced Thrawn would get extremely upset about a delay.

His worries flew out of the window really quick when the Grand Admiral let out a deep growl, threw away his datapad and pulled Pellaeon close, hands on his butt, massaging and kneading. Well. Seems Pellaeon hadn’t been the only one missing something. Thrawn shoving him against the wall and kissing him again confirmed that thought.

Thrawn pulled outside his uniform collar and bit down on his neck, sucking the spot to ensure a mark left there for a few days. Pellaeon groaned, exposing more of his neck as he threw his head back. He felt Thrawn panting as he attacked a new spot on his Captain’s neck.

Quickly glancing at the control panel to ensure the lift would stay where it was, Pellaeon reached out a hand to unzip Thrawn’s pants and then his own. Thrawn hissed at the sudden contact when Pellaeon took his member out of his underwear. “You need to relax more” Pellaeon whispered, pulling Thrawn close to him. Thrawn nipped at his ear. “The same goes for you” he said, likewise pulling Pellaeon’s underwear aside. He brought their cocks together, Pellaeon shivering at the heat of Thrawn’s hand and cock on his.

As Thrawn slowly, slowly moved his hand to jerk off the both of them, Pellaeon hoped the turbolift walls were soundproof. He moaned Thrawn’s name, arching into his touch. Thrawn kissed him again as his strokes became harder and more hurried. It was hard, fast and quick. It was perfect. Thrawn had kept his gloves on, creating a delicious friction. Combined with the precum leaking from the both of them, it made for an amazing sensation.

Thrawn squeezed his hand just a little tighter at the exact right spot, earning him another moan from Pellaeon. When he came and felt Thrawn follow suit, he was glad his lips were claimed into another kiss because he was sure the entire ship would have heard him otherwise. Panting as he sagged against the wall, he had to close his eyes for a few seconds, trying to center himself.

When he opened his eyes again the first thing he saw was Thrawn calmly lapping up their fluids from his glove. He’d somehow managed to catch it in his hand. Pellaeon had to look away from the sight in front of him because he knew he’d jump in for round two otherwise.

Thrawn, equally calmly, as if he did this daily, threw both his gloves in the trash compacter underneath the control panel. “Set to override, someone has been teaching you the inner workings of the turbolift.” He sounded…proud. He looked far more relaxed than Pellaeon had ever seen him in these past few weeks.

Pants zipped up, uniforms re-arranged and looking as put together as he ever was going to be, Pellaeon quickly released the turbolift. As it zoomed to its destination, neither man spoke. Thrawn leaned against Pellaeon, a comfortable weight against his side.

As they stepped into the officer’s mess, Pellaeon hoped he didn’t look too flustered. That hope instantly evaporated when Veers mouthed ‘you’re welcome’ at him from across the room. He turned to take Thrawn along to their table, but then saw Thrawn looking at Veers as well. “Do I want to know?” he asked, one corner of his mouth quirked up slightly. “Only something minor, sir” Pellaeon said “just a bit of advice on turbolift inner workings.”

He’d have to buy Veers a beer.


	18. Opera - Voice kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet: one general and silly, one explicit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first one is based on that time I found a new performance of a song I like and got very confused about it and chissprincess had to listen to me scream about it not being the saaaaame performance. When you expect 70ies Germans and get captain Jack Sparrow:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-lPlinesxNs  
> (Disclaimer...actually, no disclaimer, this is some good writing music.)

**Opera - General - Humour, silly, quick drabble**

He clutched the tickets in his hand. It hadn’t been easy and he’d had to do quite some bargaining, but he had managed to get tickets for a Coruscant edition of the famous Chiss opera “Afterlife”. Okay, it wasn’t the original, but he was sure the gesture would be appreciated. Pellaeon knew Thrawn would probably scoff a bit at the idea, but he’d have to just put up with the human tendency to celebrate even such minor accomplishments as being together for a year. And thus, Coruscant edition of “Afterlife” it was. They’d seen the original at Csilla and Thrawn had loved it, he’d surely be delighted to see it again even if it was a human interpretation.

Thrawn, indeed, had not even considered celebrating their one year wedding anniversary. He did smile at being presented with the tickets though. Progress. So that night, they dressed in their finest to go to the Coruscant opera house. It had survived the war intact and was still as grand as it had always been.

Oddly, most the crowd seemed to be dressed rather casual. Not entirely appropriate to the serious opera, but perhaps they hadn’t realized. Thrawn eyed them, too. “So this is a Coruscant edition, you said?” he asked, still eyeing the crowds. The rather loud crowds. “Said so on the leaflet I got about this.” Pellaeon confirmed. Thrawn looked like he wanted to say more, but he let Pellaeon take his hand and walk him to their seats.

The crowd continued to be loud. There seemed to be an unusual amount of youngsters, too, and was that alcohol they were carrying? Pellaeon began to wonder at what kind of edition of “Afterlife” exactly this was. He had perhaps declined to mention to Thrawn he got the leaflet about the show from Veers, who’d gotten it at one of those shady bars he liked to hang around in. He’d also declined to mention to Thrawn the Coruscant Opera was struggling and often opening its doors to all sorts of experimental stuff. No matter. It’d be okay, at least they were out and about together and got to enjoy relative privacy.

As the curtains pulled away, Pellaeon saw the set, at least, resembled that of the original. The empty wasteland with dark rocks in it on a background of dark trees. Though…he wasn’t entirely sure why the rocks were smeared with fluorescent paint. Nor was he entirely sure why there were clothes strewn all over. Perhaps an extra addition to the play.

When the opening scene started, he wanted to be sucked away in the nearest black hole. It wasn’t just a slightly alternate edition. It was a very…broad interpretation of the original. If they could count completely naked actors engaging in various very wild acts as an interpretation of what was normally a very dark and serious opera about life after death.  

“It’s….it’s a very innovative way for them to perform this” Thrawn said, obviously trying to spare Pellaeon’s feelings on the matter. “I like how they…” Thrawn’s voice trailed off. He seemed unable to find the words. Pellaeon couldn’t blame him. He nervously shifted in his seat. Great going on ruining the night there. He braced himself for the explosion. Even if Thrawn had grown more mild than the average Chiss over the years he’d spent with humans, Chiss generally did not take kindly to insults to their culture.

“One would hope there is no audience participation” Thrawn said dryly “I rather prefer to keep you for myself.” He squeezed Pellaeon’s hand at that. “Happy anniversary,” he then said, surprising Pellaeon. “Let’s not stay for the afterparty, I know a nice restaurant.”

He’d just have to kill Maximilian Veers.

**Voice – Explicit**

He had, of course, fantasized about it before. Many a lone hour in his quarters had been spent thinking about this exact thing. To actually experience it, though, was something else. He was sure of one thing: he’d never ever listen to the Grand Admiral’s calm voice in the same way again.

Somehow, Thrawn had picked up on Pellaeon having a thing for his voice. He’d occasionally whisper into Pellaeon’s ear during sex (making Pellaeon wonder who had been the one to teach Thrawn Basic, for he was sure words of that type were not part of a standard lesson). Nothing quite like what he was doing now, though.

It was unbelievably erotic. They were both naked, sitting on the bed facing each other. At first, Pellaeon had been unsure of Thrawn’s plans. He’d expected getting kissed and them making love on the bed.

He hadn’t expected being sat down, told to not touch himself and then listen to all sorts of filth coming from the Grand Admiral’s lips. Filth delivered in that wonderful, deep, cultured voice. He’d really have to thank the person that taught Thrawn Basic one day, because the words had him shaking and struggling not to touch himself. He’d lost track of time entirely, only hearing Thrawn’s words and feeling the intense reactions to that from himself.

Those red eyes glittered in approval as Pellaeon was struggling, clearly enjoying the view. Had he not been told to keep his hands to himself, he’d have stroked himself to orgasm right then and there. Disobeying the order would be a poor idea, he knew that much.

“I enjoy seeing you in front of me, leaking with want and struggling not to touch yourself” Thrawn went on, voice washing over him, almost torture. His hands gripped the sheet firmly. “I know you’ve been thinking about my voice in exactly this situation far before we got together, touching yourself, wanting to hear me talk to you like I am now.” Pellaeon bit his lip hard enough to draw blood at that.

A pleased grumble came from Thrawn, and he lend forward to gently suck at Pellaeon’s lip. “You’ve been so good” he said as he moved back, observing his Captain again. “Did you know I’d think of you, too?” Pellaeon moaned at that. “I take it you didn’t. Only for the best. The things I’d imagine you doing… Oh yes. I’d look at you on the bridge. Thinking about all the ways I could take you, you bending in front of me.”

At that last sentence, his voice grew deeper, more scratchy. He reached out a hand and stroked Pellaeon’s cheek, tracing his jawline. “Having you here in front of me is better than anything I could have thought of.” He went on to describe Pellaeon’s body and what he thought of it, hands stroking him all over now. Pellaeon shuddered under both his voice and touch.

“I especially enjoy it…” that voice was now saying, pausing to lightly stroke that spot behind Pellaeon’s ear that always made him squirm “…when you shudder and moan for me.” Thrawn’s hand ran over his cock, his balls, stroking the inside of his thigh. “I’ve grown to want as much of it as I can get.” Pellaeon tensed up, moaning again.

One warm hand came to rest between his legs again, stroking, teasing. One finger ran over his cock, circling the head and coming to rest against the leaking slit. “I wonder if I could make you come just by telling you how delicious you look sitting there, wet for me.” Judging by the way that made Pellaeon twitch against his hand, he was likely to get what he wanted.

“It used to drive me crazy, only getting to watch you and never getting to touch. I’d think of you at night too. I’d dream of you. Never did I consider getting to touch you like this” he emphasized his words by wrapping his hand around Pellaeon’s dick and stroking him. “Never did I consider I’d get to claim you as mine, fuck you on..” _a squeeze_ “my..” _a somewhat stronger squeeze_ _“_ kriffin command chair” _fingers stroking over the head of his cock_.

“But especially never did I expect you to ever sit in front of me, better than the nicest piece of art, better than anything I could have dreamed of. I’ll never grow tired of seeing you….come for me” It was the almost growling way in which he said that last part combined with his stroking hand that pushed Pellaeon over the edge.

As he lay panting on the bed, a rather disturbing thought came into his mind. “You know I’ll have even more trouble focusing on the bridge now?” Thrawn snorted. “Yes.” He simply stated, sounding ridiculously pleased with himself. Pellaeon couldn’t quite bring himself to feel angry about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I injured my back/neck and thus will be a little slower updating, it hurts to sit up for too long, oops. I'll be fine though, just sorry for the delays and possible increase in spelling/grammar issues D: (I will go back after NaNo and edit these)  
> Your awesome kudos and comments keep me going so thank you, again :D I appreciate every single person reading this, THANK YOU


	19. Museum - Explicit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pellaeon isn't afraid to dish out orders...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I noticed everyone really likes dom!Pellaeon soooo....this is for you :D Explicit. Because hey we all get tired of Thrawn being so IN CONTROL. I personally think he loves to be able to let Pellaeon take the reigns for a while, it's hard running an Empire.
> 
> Based on a prompt that chissprincess shared: "Oh shut up and just take me in the bathroom"

**Museum - Explicit**

“Oh shut up and just take me in the bathroom” the words still hung heavily in the room. Thrawn, who had up until then been studying a rare piece of Alderaanian art and keeping a running commentary on it, slowly turned to face his Captain. It didn’t happen often, but Pellaeon had managed to stun him.

It was always the same. They’d go to some planet. Thrawn found the local museum. Thrawn would drag him there and spend the rest of the day lecturing Pellaeon on art. It wasn’t as if he disliked art, really. He’d just really like to spend some time with his husband without the need to be taught something. Especially now that they were on a planet known for its amazing clubs. Clubs where no one would look at the famous Grand Admiral and his Captain having a good time.

He’d even gone so far as to share his woes with his friends Firmus Piett and Maximilian Veers. They’d nodded in sympathy and they’d come up with a plan. “Seduce him,” Veers had said. “Change his mind on art and just distract him.” “Yes, surprise him!” Piett had said, nodding in agreement. Pellaeon had to remind them both that this was Grand Admiral Thrawn, who was extremely hard to surprise. Piett and Veers had shared a look and it was Firmus who’d put the idea in his mind. “Thrawn always expects you to follow protocol, because that is what you do. Why not do something completely out of the ordinary for two Imperial officers out on a stroll? Stand up for yourself, you’ll be off duty.”

Okay, he wasn’t _entirely_ sure Firmus had meant asking Thrawn to shut up and have sex with him in public, but it seemed to have at least surprised Thrawn. In fact, he looked highly confused at the entire proposal. “Excuse me” was his only reply. Not good. Very not good. He was supposed to have grabbed Pellaeon in lust and dragged him off to the nearest refresher. Not stand there and look scandalized.

Well. Corellian brashness to the rescue. “We’re always going to these museums. I don’t mind some art, but we’re off the ship. Can we just…do something together? Something that doesn’t involve paintings and vases and sculptures?” Thrawn seemed even more confused at having to consider the thought of not doing something related to art. Then his brow furrowed. Oh no. “Your idea of doing something else is…public sex?” The way he said it he made it sound as if Pellaeon had suggested they both strip naked on the bridge one day.

He was about to just let Thrawn go on with his art, Corellian brashness already flaring out, when a voice that sounded suspiciously like one Firmus Piett reminded him that he was supposed to stand up for himself. Not allowing himself time to think it through, he reached to grab Thrawn’s shoulder. Using his surprise to push him back, he looked into Thrawn’s eyes. “I don’t think I made myself clear, Thrawn.” Thrawn opened his mouth, then took another look at Pellaeon and abruptly closed his mouth. Whatever he saw in Pellaeon’s eyes stopped him from arguing further.  “Very well then, Gilad…I’d guess the appropriate reply is…seduce me.”  

For a few seconds, Pellaeon wasn’t sure if Thrawn was serious or not. One never knew with him. He saw the gleam in Thrawn’s eyes though and felt a ridiculous flutter of nerves. It seemed that, as much as he was playing the cultured, aloof man, Pellaeon’s sudden attitude had gotten to him. It awakened an urge in Pellaeon he hadn’t often felt with Thrawn. An urge to grab the man standing before him, seemingly so calm. An urge to crack that calm and for once make him do something he hadn’t planned out start to end.

Before he could lose the urge and the courage coming with it, he reached out and grabbed Thrawn by the front of his shirt. Throwing a quick look around to ensure they were still alone (who would visit a museum when the planet was full of the best clubs, though?) he tugged at Thrawn’s shirt to make him come along. For a moment he was afraid Thrawn would simply stand there and refuse to play along, but he made a soft huffing sound and allowed his Captain to lead him.

Pellaeon made a quick prayer to the deity of refreshers when the door opened and he shoved Thrawn too. Shoving him in felt better than it should. Quite addicting, even. He could get used to that feeling. Stepping in behind Thrawn and locking the door, he was pleased to find the universe was with him today at least in regards to extremely clean freshers.

Thrawn was standing at the sink, hands loosely at his sides. He could easily overpower Pellaeon at any time, but something was holding him back. Something was keeping him rooted at the spot looking at Pellaeon. With a shudder, he realized it was lust. Those red eyes were burning with lust.

Thrawn made a move as if he wanted to grab Pellaeon but found his wrists locked in a firm grip instead. Steering him to stand against the door, Pellaeon looked into his eyes. He had always prided himself on never flinching on that gaze. He had never quite appreciated how it had become a thing for Thrawn in these situations. As Pellaeon kept looking at him, Thrawn looked away, biting his lap. The sight of that went straight to his groin.

Feeling encouraged by the unusually pliant Grand Admiral, Pellaeon kept his wrists in one hand as he caressed Thrawn’s cheek with the other. He let himself enjoy the feeling of smooth, hot skin under his hand. The Chiss let out an almost inaudible sigh and leaned in to the touch. Good. He could do better though.

“Look at me when I touch you” Pellaeon said, putting the weight of years in the Imperial Navy in his voice. It had an immediate effect. Thrawn stiffened, wrists twitching in Pellaeon’s grip. He took a deep breath, then looked at Pellaeon again. His eyes were dark, intense. Pellaeon met his eyes and smiled. He then delivered what he hoped to be the final piece to unlock that calm. “Good, you did well. _Bun vn'ini_.”

He delivered the seemingly innocent words with a flair. He had practiced them for weeks, not quite sure if he’d be ridiculed or if they’d have any effect at all. The praise had an effect, all right. Thrawn’s head snapped up. His eyes were suddenly wild, and Pellaeon could feel the strength in his arms. He was worried he’d crossed some sort of invisible line, but then Thrawn’s arms went slack and he leaned heavily against the door. He closed his eyes, opened them again and his breathing turned labored.

To say he’d liked being called a _good boy_ the way one would praise a pet would be an understatement. He looked like he could come on the spot. That was not what Pellaeon had in mind for him. Not right now. This was about teaching Thrawn a lesson about keeping your human husband happy and healthy.

He let go of Thrawn’s wrists. Thrawn made to touch him again but Pellaeon held him back with a firm ‘no’. He stood watching Thrawn for a while, making sure to stand up straight, almost as tall Thrawn himself. Thrawn let out an actual whine (he’d probably deny that afterwards) as he stood there, but he made no move to disobey. “On your knees” Pellaeon ordered. “Now.”

It was as if all the strength left Thrawn’s legs because he was on his knees almost immediately. “Look at me” Pellaeon reminded him, reaching out to give a gentle tug on the blue black hair. Thrawn blinked, then looked at him.

It was…intoxicating. Intoxicating was a good word. Pellaeon wanted to pinch himself at seeing the Grand Admiral kneel at his feet in some fresher in a museum on some planet with a name he couldn’t even pronounce. He sat there, obedient and waiting for the next order. At his feet. Pellaeon had to swallow before he could speak for his throat had gotten completely dry.

“Good. Now. We need to discuss your recent behavior. You can be the Grand Admiral when we’re on duty, but off duty…I see through that.” He only got a soft, choked-off moan in return, Thrawn moving closer, sitting halfway up to touch Pellaeon. “You will stay there on your knees.” Once more, the order had an immediate effect and Thrawn sank down on his knees again. With a thankfully not shaking hand, Pellaeon moved to free his now straining erection from his pants.

“Suck.” He ordered. He had to bite his lip from moaning out loud and breaking the spell when that order, too, was immediately followed. Thrawn was good at this. Very good at this. Being as observant to his lover as he was to his art, it hadn’t taken him long to find out what Pellaeon liked. Pellaeon threw his head back, one hand gripping Thrawn’s hair as Thrawn took him almost whole.

Fingers running over Thrawn’s scalp, he rumbled his approval. Keeping an eye on any signs of discomfort, he lightly thrust into Thrawn’s mouth. Thrawn moaned at that. “Don’t talk with your mouth full” Pellaeon said, gripping Thrawn’s hair again and thrusting in earnest now. He looked down at the scene in front of him, Thrawn kneeling at his feet, his dick disappearing in that hotter than human mouth at every thrust.

He didn’t last long. He couldn’t, not with Thrawn kneeling at his feet and sucking his cock as if he had been starved for it. He tried to warn Thrawn by gently tapping his cheek, but Thrawn responded by grabbing his butt and pulling him closer. Pellaeon didn’t bother to muffle his moan as he came, uncaring of other visitors.

As Thrawn gave him a thorough cleaning, Pellaeon stroked his hair, barely keeping himself up on shaking legs. He looked down at the bulge in Thrawn’s pants. He must be aching for release, but he made no move to touch himself. Seems he was learning.

“You’ve been good,” Pellaeon said “that deserves a reward. Make yourself come. Don’t make a mess on yourself, I’ve got plans for later.” He didn’t have to say it twice. Thrawn had himself in hand within seconds. His eyes focused on Pellaeon, it was over in four, five hard strokes. He came quietly, still at Pellaeon’s feet. Pellaeon could have taken him right then and there, but knew he’d have his chance later.

Thrawn stayed oddly silent as they cleaned up and re-arranged their clothes. So quiet, Pellaeon was worried he’d gone too far. Just as he was about to bring it up, Thrawn looked at him again. His face was completely open, no sign of his usual Grand Admiral mask.

“Thank you” he whispered, putting his arms tightly around Pellaeon’s waist and resting their foreheads together. Pellaeon kissed him, unable to keep himself for smiling. “You should let me handle things more often” he muttered. “It’s good for your health”

There was no reply, for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to laugh as I was writing the part about Pellaeon having taken care to make his Cheunh pronounciation of "good boy" perfect...who would Pellaeon practise his naughty Cheunh on? THRASS? Talk about awkward family get-togethers. ("I am not a dog, Gilad Pellaeon, please cease this talk.")


	20. Peace - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn has spend a lifetime looking for peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to add, Happy Thanksgiving US readers! I hope you had a good day!

From a young age, he is told to control himself. Emotions are for after a battle, in private. There is no place for them in strategy. A good strategist knows to always keep a blank face. It means order. Order is the root of a civilized society. So he learns. Even as a young child, always the odd one out, never quite fitting in, he knows to never show that their words hurt. He feels restless and out of place. Unbecoming for a Chiss, he dreams of worlds beyond their stars. He knows to keep quiet on it, so he sits quietly and observes the others.

As he grows up, a young Commander with his own picket force, his control is further tested. He sees so much wrong with the Chiss fleet. They won’t listen to him. He is still the odd one out. Thrass is frustrated with him, asks him why he is insisting on throwing away a perfectly good future. He doesn’t have the answer to that. He just has that urge to explore, to see, to learn. His face betrays nothing, but he so regrets no other Chiss feel like exploring other cultures. He still observes where he can, but longs for new information.

He is impressed by the lady Admiral. So impressed, in a later, different life he will push an idea for an all white uniform for the Emperor’s new Grand Admirals. That is later, though. Now he is still a Commander with a known ability to get in trouble. He has learned to play his cards close to his chest. Though Ar’alani disagrees with him most strongly on some battle techniques, she at least understands the need to look beyond Chiss culture. She allows him to take up tasks at the edge of Chiss space. For a while, it brings him some calm of mind. But only for a while. There is only so much looking one can do. Always looking, never attacking, of course not.

It is as if the universe answers a please he didn’t realise he’s been making. He meets humans and finds himself fascinated by how freely they show their emotion. The captain tries to hide it, of course. Little does he know Chiss are very good at reading even the most subtle of facial expressions. Some day in the future a very brash human will ask him if he can read minds, and he never denies it. Ferasi, he finds, is enthralled by him. Oh, she doesn’t say it. But he can see it in her face. He likes her. She possesses an innocence he’d hate to ever see her lose. There are too few idealists in this galaxy, of that he is sure.

It is the human male Car’das he falls for though. He pushes for control. If having an unusual amount of curiosity is making him an outcast then surely having a taste for humans makes it even worse. He is proud that his face never shows what he feels, though it also makes his heart ache. His heart aches especially when Car’das laughs, joyfully, even when amidst aliens he isn’t sure will let him go. He feels the humans’ ability to laugh even in the face of danger is more admirable than the Chiss’ iron control. He knows better than to argue the point to Thrass, who is determined to keep him on the right path.

Somehow, some night, he and Car’das sit on the observation deck. They don’t talk. The silence is not strained as it so often is with the other Chiss, though. It is a calm silence, a silence where he feels he can just let himself be for a while. It is a feeling he is not used to. Perhaps it is the strangeness of the situation that brings him to do it, he isn’t quite sure. He kisses the human, even then observing his taste, his reaction, the slightly cool feel of his skin.

Car’das is a good teacher, not just for languages. He cannot show the human the emotions he feels, it is too soon. He hopes the smuggler sees it in his eyes at least, maybe a hint of it. He’s not brave enough to ask, afterwards, when they lie together in a heap of tangled limbs, human and Chiss, on the observation deck’s couch. He feels at peace.

Of course he cannot bring himself to look the other way when more humans come. He knows it would be the right thing to do, to keep out of other’s affairs. Chiss are not responsible for others’ suffering. Yet he cannot say no. He tells Car’das to never speak a word of it to Ferasi. He makes him promise. Car’das promises.

When the humans are gone and Thrass is gone he finds he has no more desire to explore. There is only so much time appropriate for grief so he buries that, too. He is invited to dinner more often now that he does his job as is expected of him. He feels like the beings Car’das told him about: droids. Not feeling, only doing their function. Only doing what they are expected to do. Why would he desire to seek out more beyond Chiss life when the universe will just take it away. He never speaks of these thoughts. He does his job.

Whenever he feels a slight spark to act he is so happy to feel that spark, he doesn’t care about the consequences anymore. And oh, such consequences they are. Banished to an uninhabited planet. He has far too much time to think there. He keeps himself busy getting to know the planet, observing, gaining knowledge. But after a year, he has seen all. Perhaps it is for the best he is here. Why should a Chiss long for more when their traditions and culture have served them for so many years?

Even at the deepest of his despair however, the spark remains in him. He doesn’t understand why he still feels the urge to get away from this planet and learn more, find places amidst the stars. It keeps him going.

Once rescue comes, he is not even surprised they are humans. Humans, he found, are everywhere. He even smiles slightly when he is reminded of Car’das’ tutoring in Basic. Neither of them would have thought it’d come in use ever again.

Parck is a human of a different type. He is kind, but he gives off a sense that he is a very hard man to fool. He picks up on this quickly. Finding the humans surprised by his cultured voice, he uses it to his advantage. Here, too, his red eyes come in useful. They ward off the questions some humans undoubtedly want to ask. They do not like aliens here. Parck sits with him a lot, but he remains lonely. That suits him just fine. He gets to observe. He stores the knowledge. He has never felt that calm he felt with Car’das again, but at least he can make his mind work for him again. He doesn’t ask for more.

The universe has a good sense of humour to provide him with a loud Corellian that isn’t afraid to talk back again. It seems they are, he has learned this expression now, _his type_. It takes time for them to fall into a routine. The Captain is used to men such as Darth Vader, grey eyes often warily watching his commander.

The Captain learns quick though. He enjoys the debates with the human, even if he feels they might be driving the Captain slightly mad. It becomes his nighttime routine to study Corellian flame sculptures. He is eager to know more. He knows it’s not at all on a professional level. He has no one to answer to anymore, so he allows himself, his face a careful, neutral mask. He still feels no peace, but he does feel the calm that comes with a good routine. It is more than he hoped for.

It is on a party after Sluis Van that he learns to relax. It feels strange to him, even if the men around him assure him that the crew has no qualms about their commander joining in the festivities. He can’t laugh as loudly as Maximilian Veers does, but he sits back and allows himself to smile at it anyway. It feels odd, after so many years spent on making sure he looks neutral, but it is a good sort of odd.

When a certain Corellian asks him to dance, he feels conflicted, but only for a few seconds. He has never been good at saying no to Corellians and Gilad Pellaeon is no exception, especially as he blushes while he asks. He can’t say no to their kiss either.

He finds his peace again, it seems it was always waiting for him amidst humans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to PhantomPhan16, who suggested Thrawn's POV. I was doing this as a warm up to see if I could and this rolled out...  
> Because so many of you also asked for more dom!Pellaeon I'll be trying for a dom!Pellaeon with Thrawn's POV next :) I do hope I do him justice, we never see his POV in the books so uh *SWEATS HEAVILY*
> 
> Also, that "party after Sluis Van where he learned to relax" Thrawn mentions? That'll also come, just as a cute inbetween scene.
> 
> Thank you everyone that commented <3 <3


	21. Mornings - Chiss parties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gilad Pellaeon likes his mornings,  
> he likes Chiss parties a little less. Whole lotta fluff in here.

**Mornings - General**

The first morning they are together, he’s the first to awake. He’s always thought of Thrawn as a morning person, but finds his idea of that is entirely wrong. Of course, morning is relative on a stardestroyer, determined entirely by the ship’s time. Pellaeon sticks to that old smuggler favourite: morning is when you open your eyes.

He lies there quietly, not daring to disturb Thrawn. He takes his time to study the Grand Admiral now that his face is relaxed in sleep. His hair is a mess, Pellaeon recalls running his fingers through it last night, admiring the silky feel. It’s a good memory. He lightly runs his hand over Thrawn’s hair again, careful not to wake him. Thankfully, he seems to be a very deep sleeper.

Pellaeon puts that thought away for future reference. For now, he is happy to just look. He hopes to see much more of it.

As their being together turns routine, many mornings after the first one, he begins to notice more patterns. Thrawn is very serious about cuddling. He will not admit to it, of course. Actions speak louder than words however. At night, Thrawn seems to wrap around him, arms and legs pinning him in place.

He enjoys it and lets him. Even if Thrawn’s bodyheat can make him a bit uncomfortable. He learns to keep the heat down in their quarters. He sleeps well now, far better than since Endor. All he misses are real mornings with sunbeams coming in through a window. Maybe after the war.

His favourite mornings are mornings when they are on leave. Actual mornings with daylight rather than the artificial lights on the ship. He especially likes the first morning they spend on Csilla. No, the weather will probably never grow on him. But to see the sun rise and turn the ice into glittering crystals is worth it.

Plus, on Csilla at least the temperature is perfect for them to sleep wrapped up together, even some blankets piled on them. Their leaves are always short, they still can’t afford to sleep in, work is always a quick com call away. It will come, one day.

It’s their first morning in the reclaimed Imperial Palace that really makes him feel he is home though. It is unexpected, for Coruscant is the city that never sleeps and has no gentle sunbeams peeking through the windows. It hits him that they did it. They reclaimed Coruscant. The Palace is once more Imperial. Thrawn has already started talks with the Rebels. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying to be done, even if there’s still so much to take care of ahead.

For now, all they have ahead of them is rest. The talks will resume later. Thrawn remained a deep sleeper even through the worst of the war. Today is an exception. He is awake, quietly looking at Pellaeon. Pellaeon looks back, each man taking in the other. Neither wishes to break the spell as they lay there, each lost in their own thoughts.

Pellaeon is sure he never wants a morning without Thrawn again. Even so, his words surprise him

“Marry me.”

**Chiss party - General**

He did not enjoy taking Pellaeon with him to his homeworld. It wasn’t because of Pellaeon, who did his best every time. No, it was because it once again showed him the Chiss weren’t much better than the hardcore human-only Imperials that had always shunned him. Oh, they were never outright rude to him. Pellaeon did not have to go through the verbal abuse Thrawn himself had endured in the Imperial navy.

No, he did not have to go through that. He had to go through being treated as merely an add-on to Thrawn. An add-on that could not be ignored, but that wasn’t entirely accepted either. It enrages him. Pellaeon tells him not to worry about it, let them think what they want, it’s not worth it getting banished again. Thrawn disagrees, but he has also grudgingly learned to accept some things cannot be argued about with Pellaeon. Thrawn admires him, for going back every time with his head held high.

His brother, at least, has come around to the idea. He wasn’t exactly thrilled when he found his little brother involved with a human again, but has since accepted it. Gilad and him spend time tending to a small garden, Thrass was delighted to find out Gilad knew all the native plants. (Of course, he did not share his delightedness with Pellaeon, that would be too much) Thrass has taken to sending him images of the garden to keep Pellaeon updated inbetween visits. Thrass has always liked to indulge his little brother and slowly, that has spread to Pellaeon. From images of the garden to packages of the Chiss candies he knows Pellaeon likes. They are small gestures, but they are so huge amidst a sea of indifference.

They have a fight over going to the Ascendancy Day ball. Pellaeon knows it is important and pushes him to go. He doesn’t want to. He has no desire to spend time with people that look down upon his husband because he isn’t Chiss. He missed his home, but he did not miss the attitudes, of that he is sure. Pellaeon, as always, convinces him with a sharp tongue and with a gentle kiss to his forehead. No military genius can withstand Corellian stubbornness, something he has come to terms with. Some days it’s easier than others.

So they stand at the edge of the dancefloor. In a small act of defiance, he wears his Imperial Grand Admiral uniform in full dress. He has been allowed to wear the robes of house Mitth again, but he feels even more out of place if he does. Thrawn is thankful to find out some of his old friends have been invited as has Ar’alani. She is kind to the both of them, even if he sometimes feels as if she still sees him as the youthful Commander he was in another life. Pellaeon likes her though and that is all that counts to him now. Even if he doesn’t always like the way Pellaeon smirks at some of the stories Ar’alani likes to tell about his younger self. Stent drops by, his youthful enthusiasm a welcome distraction as well.

He notices Pellaeon glancing at the dance floor every now and then, though. He has forever remained a keen observer and collector of information. He can’t not notice. They don’t get a lot of time off together and they both like to dance. On previous visits, they have always opted to stay on the sides, often thankfully surrounded by friends.

He considers it. They have no power over him anymore, not really. His marriage is valid here too even if some of tonight’s guests would wish it to be otherwise. The younger generation has gotten louder in their desire to see other cultures, to learn, to experience. Will one dance mean the end of his standing here? Doubtful.

He takes Pellaeon’s hand and tugs it gently, stepping towards the dancefloor. Grey eyes blink in surprise, then he catches on and smiles. Pulling his husband close, Thrawn gently sways to the music. He won’t bother with the traditional dance, it holds little meaning to him. As they move together, he finds his surroundings seem to melt away. He has always felt Pellaeon was the eye of a storm, always able to ground him no matter what.

Just by the simple act of being together, he finds himself grounded firmly where he belongs. He wouldn’t have it any other way.


	22. Getting to know them - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn gets to realise not all Imperial humans are unpleasant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing for a while guys, I got really sick. I'll get to your sweet comments later <3 Thank you so much for sticking around!

It was just one of those traditions. Whenever a large battle would be won, they’d group together in the officer’s mess. Veers would extract himself from whatever loud group of army personnel he’d been with, Piett would bring some of his private alcohol stash and Pellaeon was always in charge of snacks. They’d long since agreed anything said or done on these get-togethers would be strictly off-duty and off-record. (Even if they’d never let Max forget the time he’d danced on the table in nothing but a Stormtrooper helmet – Piett had at least deleted any and all footage off it from the security cameras.)

Today, after winning Sluis Van, they were once again sitting together at their usual table. Piett was just telling them about the very nice Nabooan wine he’d gotten, when Veers abruptly sat up straight and looked at the entrance. “I’m sorry Firmus but, look who just walked in.” As they turned around, Pellaeon blinked in surprise. It was Thrawn.

He normally would retire to his quarters after a battle, possibly to meditate or make new plans – no one was really sure for no one dared disturb him during those times. He looked a little lost standing there overlooking the loud mess and Pellaeon took pity on him. “Gilad will you not—“ Veers words were lost on him as he got up and walked towards Thrawn.

He was pleased to see those red eyes light up a little and a hint of a smile play around his mouth. “Good evening, Captain” he said, inclining his head. “I have heard the crew likes to get together after battle.” He left it at that, a somewhat awkward silence following his words. Pellaeon wasn’t sure what possessed him to even offer, odds were Thrawn would never relax enough to comfortably join them. However, one could at least try. Plus, no one told a Corellian the odds. “You should come sit with us,” Pellaeon said, “Admiral Piett has some very nice wine.”

Thrawn hesitated, clearly feeling extremely out of place. “It’ll be good for morale to see you here, sir,” Pellaeon said, knowing very well it’d pull Thrawn over. Thrawn nodded curtly and followed him as Pellaeon made his way through the crowd back to the table. He had to hand it to both Veers and Piett, they’d already set out a glass for Thrawn and had pulled out a chair. Thrawn sat down gingerly, as if he expected someone to jump out at him.

“Good evening” Piett said, “A glass of wine? It’s the good kind.” Thrawn nodded at him and Piett wasted no time filling the glass to the brim. Clearly, he hoped some good alcohol (rather than the synthetic stuff) would loosen Thrawn up a little. As Thrawn took his spot next to Pellaeon, Veers sat back in thought. Pellaeon was hoping for Veers to start the conversation, he was good at this kind of stuff.

He wasn’t disappointed. Taking a sip of wine, Veers leaned over to Thrawn. “So, your first after battle bash?” he said. Thrawn seemed a bit taken aback at not being addressed by rank. “We’re all strictly off-duty here” said Veers, who had noticed Thrawn’s apprehension.

“I do apologise if I’m not behaving as is expected with these parties. I did not participate in them when I was lower in rank” Thrawn said, his voice even but a hint of something underneath “I was not…welcomed by the crew.”

A painful silence fell over the table. Of course, they all had suspected Thrawn probably didn’t have an easy time in the Empire before being made Grand Admiral. But hearing him almost admitting to it was something else. Pellaeon wasn’t sure what to say. He knew pity would annoy Thrawn, but he was genuinely sorry. Thankfully, Veers saved the evening here, too.

“They sound like a bunch of stuck up idiots with blasters up their arse then,” he said very calmly, as if stating a fact that shouldn’t surprise anyone. For a fleeting moment Pellaeon worried Thrawn would get up and leave, but he surprised them all by actually chuckling. Somewhat quietly and with a hand in front of his mouth, but he was chuckling. Veers smiled in triumph and took another sip of wine.

“Nothing is really expected of you” Piett reassured him. “Just, you know, be here as their great leader and all….and maybe try not to stare at them too much.” “Oh, and don’t get so drunk we have to have Firmus slice into the cameras again” Pellaeon added “It’s not something we want to repeat”. As he took another sip of his wine, he very much ignored the daggers Veers was glaring at him from across the table (they had agreed Thrawn would not be notified of the Stormtrooper Dance Incident or SDI).

“You can rest assured Chiss have a far higher alcohol tolerance than humans” Thrawn mused as a slightly unsteady lieutenant passed their table. “Hah, so that’s what you lot are called” Veers said, somehow sounding both proud of hearing it, but also offended Thrawn had not notified him of this fact personally earlier. Thrawn was silent for a moment, but then seemed to relax. Taking his glass in hand, he stretched his long legs in front of him. “That is what us lot are called, indeed.”  

Veers seemed to mull it over. Pellaeon knew that look on his face and knew he was going in for another round to see what else he could get Thrawn to say. Thrawn eyed him and comprehension drew on his face slowly. “There are thousands of us on our homeworld Csilla and surrounding planets” seeing Piett look slightly concerned, he hastened to add “You don’t have to worry about an invasion any time soon, I was banished for daring to believe in attacking a threat before the threat could attack us.”

Huh. That was an unexpected look into Thrawn’s history. Pellaeon knew Parck had found him on some backwater planet, but no one knew how he had gotten there in the first place. “It must have been difficult, suddenly being amongst humans” he said, wincing as he did. Hadn’t he thought earlier that pity would only make the Grand Admiral angry?

Thankfully, Thrawn declined to comment, suddenly draining his glass instead. A silence fell over the table again. Thrawn studied Pellaeon thoughtfully, Pellaeon trying not to squirm under his gaze. “I haven’t always enjoyed my time with humans, no” Thrawn said. Pellaeon felt oddly disappointed at that, as if it was his personal failure somehow.

“I’m finding I’ve quite liked my time with this particular set of humans, however” he added, getting up from his chair. He reached out and grasped Pellaeon’s shoulder. “I’d very much like to spend more time with them” he said it to Pellaeon though, holding his gaze as he gave his shoulder a squeeze. Before Pellaeon could say anything, Thrawn nodded to the other two and walked off.

Pellaeon was too stunned to say anything. He realized he was blushing and was trying very hard to think of something to say. Veers leaned back in his chair, wearing the look of a man that had just seen all his dreams come true. “This is better than the Stormtrooper Dance Incident. Your faces, the both of you, this is the best thing ever”. Pellaeon knew he’d hear about this for the coming weeks.

He didn’t really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series will be continued after NaNo, I've found my writing spark back (: Stay tuned for more!


	23. Pet - Mature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knows he should be ashamed,  
> what kind of Chiss kneels for a human?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a very patient PhantomPhan, who asked for Thrawn's POV during a steamy scene :)

It’s always a clash between his feelings and his learned culture. Oh, they’d look down on him on Csilla if they knew. No Chiss should submit to a mere human. It’s always been drilled into him that the Chiss are superior, they should always hold themselves to the highest standard.

They should absolutely not enjoy being ordered around by a human. Especially not by a human that is their Captain in professional life. No, he shouldn’t enjoy this. He should feel like a disgrace to his own race.

He absolutely should not enjoy kneeling on the floor in his own quarters, entirely naked, while waiting for said Captain to walk in. He shouldn’t feel the stabs of arousal and anticipation. He shouldn’t have to fight for control to stop his hands from shaking, to stop himself for looking up. He has been told to wait. He will wait. Even if it feels like it has been ages. He will do as he was told.

All thoughts about proper Chiss behaviour are forgotten when he hears his Captain enter the room. Slow, steady footsteps. Always walking with a purpose in mind. His mind becomes focused on one thing. Blissfully, just one thing: do as Gilad Pellaeon says. His praise is all that matters.

“Look up” the command is short, the Corellian accent washing over him. He obeys immediately. He is not able to do otherwise when in this state. In front of him stands his Captain, towering over him in full dress uniform complete with black leather gloves. He is a formidable sight. Gray eyes move over the alien sitting in front of him, Thrawn focuses on them in the hopes of catching a hint of approval.

He is not disappointed. A slow smile spreads over Pellaeon’s face as he watches. “Good. I am glad you waited for me.” He takes a step forward and Thrawn fights the urge to move forward, too. He has been told to stay on his knees. He will stay there. Judging by the pleased grunt coming from Pellaeon, he caught Thrawn’s struggle.

A hand is put under his chin, the leather warm and smooth against his skin. He’s being forced to look up and that shouldn’t make his cock twitch in anticipation. He meets his captain’s gray eyes again, looking for direction. He could be asked to order the Chimaera into the nearest black hole and obey now.

Pellaeon observes him, taking in the sight of his commanding officer kneeling at his feet. It pleases him, Thrawn knows, and that fuels the fire raging inside of him. He almost speaks up, wanting to ask to be touched more, to be taken. Pellaeon’s fingers are quick to move to his lips to remind him of tonight’s rules. No words. No touching without permission.

The human’s skilled fingers stroke his lips, moving aside to stroke his cheek, behind his ear. It’s a struggle not to whimper now. He bites his lip, control that normally comes easy to him lost in the sensation of his Captain’s hand running through his hair. Pellaeon sees it, of course. He tugs lightly on the Chiss’ hair. “Now, I did promise you a treat, hadn’t I?”

Oh yes. If Chiss culture frowned upon a Chiss submitting to a human, it’d absolutely, undoubtedly completely disapprove of the Chiss having been distracted all afternoon because of said human. Pellaeon had leaned over pretending to study the tactical display. He’d whispered about his plans for the night in Thrawn’s ear.

With the sound of Pellaeon opening his breeches, the last thought of proper Chiss behavior left Thrawn’s mind. In their place comes the pleasant feeling of just being. Being, and pleasing his love by just that alone. He almost reaches out while Pellaeon lazily strokes himself, but he knows better. He settles for a low whine which he’d be terribly ashamed of had it been any other situation but this.

Pellaeon’s hips thrust forward at the sound. His strokes become more hurried, his eyes steady on Thrawn kneeling before him. “You’ve been so good” he says, slightly out of breath. The words are like bright sparks in Thrawn’s mind. As Pellaeon steps forward, he opens his mouth greedily, wanting to hear more of that praise. The human is hard and leaking in his mouth and he swirls his tongue around to catch more of the salty liquid.

Pellaeon’s hand, still in his hair, tightens his hold. “Yes, my treat, just like that” he whispers, in ancient Corellian this time. An indulgence, just for him to hear. As the human thrusts himself further into Thrawn’s mouth, he hums in satisfaction. He feels nothing but pleasure when Pellaeon comes in his mouth, hand tugging on his hair and moaning his name.

He is thorough in his cleaning, lapping up every drop of fluid he can find. Pellaeon’s hand strokes through his hair again, soothingly now. “Was there something you needed?” Pellaeon asks, voice light but a hint of steel underneath. He exhales, relaxing on his spot on the floor, his limbs heavy and a warm feeling pooling in his belly.

“No, sir. Thank you.”


	24. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some quick warm ups I did before writing longer chapters :) All general!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys holy aaaahhh I am SO SO THANKFUL for all your sweet comments, kudos AND EVEN TUMBLR POSTS. I've received some really cool fanart and moodboards which I will share soon :) I'll also get to comments soon. These are for you! They are warm ups I do before writing scenes that are difficult for me, or just to get in the mood. Doodles, if you will.

“It’s just…this human custom…we like to give gifts to the ones we love on this day” Pellaeon said, sweat prickling at his back. Thrawn looked at him with the sort of mildly curious look he reserved for human behavior he found particularly odd. He was holding the admittedly somewhat over the top pink glittery card Pellaeon had given him.

“I can take it back if you don’t like it” Pellaeon hastened to add.

“No, I’ll keep it” Thrawn said, moving the card around slightly to admire the glitter “I’m quite liking what this says about you.”

\--

“You appear to be…peeling, Captain” Thrawn said, voice equal parts horrified and fascinated. Pellaeon, who’d been lounging stretched out on his stomach under the Corellian sun, half turned to face him. “I’m sorry?” he said, wondering if the Grand Admiral was pulling his leg. Thrawn’s face was complete serious, however. Not that that was usually any indication, but he’d been quite laidback on their small leave to Corellia.

“Your skin, it’s peeling” Thrawn’s voice was definitely going more towards horrified territory now. Oh. Years on a starship had made him more sensitive to the sun. He should have been more careful about applying sunblock on his shoulders. Clearly, whatever Thrawn’s species was, they did not get sunburn.

Thrawn was peering at his shoulders, looking torn between wanting to touch and wanting to never look at it again.

“Do you have any more human surprises for me on this trip, or will this be all?” Thrawn said and damn it if he didn’t sound teasing.

\---

He wakes up feeling confused for a second. He has muscle pains in places he hasn’t had muscle pains in years. Something warm and solid is wrapped around him and that somehow makes the memories of last night slip in.

The Grand Admiral and himself. In his bed. His cheeks warm slightly at the thought. They warm even more at the memories of their lovemaking. More pressing matters force him to rather grudgingly extract himself from the warm embrace. He makes his careful way to the fresher. Yes, definitely muscle pain in places he hasn’t felt in years.

As he comes back, Thrawn is up, lying in his stomach and intensely studying—

Ah. Not the kind of sexy, confident comeback he’d had in mind. Thrawn is studying his stuffed Bantha that has a spot of honour on his nightstand. Studying it in the way he’d study a piece of art giving him particular trouble. He awkwardly clears his throat.

Thrawn doesn’t look away from Bimf as he speaks up. “Tell me, Gilad, what is the function of this…object” he says. Pellaeon takes a moment to get over the fact the Grand Admiral is asking him about his childhood stuffed animal after a night of sex and seems entirely unaware of the function of said stuffed animal.

“It’s just this toy we get when we’re young” he says, knowing Thrawn will probably end up asking him a hundred more questions about it. “Didn’t you have one?” he asks, suddenly curious. This makes Thrawn look up (and doesn’t he look good with his hair messed up from sleep and other activities?). He quirks an eyebrow, but something in Pellaeon’s face makes him, for once, accept the answer.

Bimf is left on the nightstand though. Many months later, he could swear he hears Thrawn wish him good night.

\----

He can’t help but notice that Thrawn seems to have no clue about personal space. He can’t figure out if it’s a cultural thing, or Thrawn trying to intimidate him, or something he doesn’t want to think about…or all three.

At first, it makes him nervous. His palms end up sweaty whenever the Grand Admiral casually leans in over his shoulder to look at the display. He can feel the heat of his body and he can feel those eyes burn. It’s unnerving.

It turns into something else though. He can’t quite put his finger on it right away. Just at some point, the casual leaning in becomes a comfort, a familiar feeling. He feels himself relax whenever Thrawn is near. Not something he’s used to feeling after a lifetime of serving in the Navy.

Maybe he should ask Thrawn if his species knows the concept of personal space. But he’d rather not lose his guilty pleasure.

\---

The Grand Admiral is….well, he’s not exactly jumping for joy, but he seems pleased which is as much as they get out of him anyway. Pellaeon has to admit everyone outdid themselves. It had taken him a lot of sneaky slicing and favours to learn Thrawn’s birthday. It had taken even more sneaking to organize this surprise party. It is worth it though, to see Thrawn relaxed, surrounded by his guests and balloons.

Afterwards, he lingers. Thrawn has a balloon in his hands, a puzzled frown on his face. Sometimes, he forgets that to Thrawn, a lot of things humans do are odd. It delights him, somehow. “First time seeing a balloon?” he says, sitting down next to Thrawn. Thrawn looks up, brow still furrowed in thought. “I was just wondering why Veers, Piett, Vermel, Tschel and you were giving me bags of your breath. It feels awfully intimate” he speaks.

Only long practiced Navy control keeps Pellaeon from breaking down in laughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Balloon idea comes from chissprincess! Thank you :D
> 
> Humans do some pretty WEIRD things if we consider it from an alien POV guys


	25. Camping - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They spend all this time on a ship,  
> and still huddle together at a campfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My prompt was "camping" so this happened, started funny then turned into my favourite...soft gentle touching between two guys each too stubborn to admit being hella in love xD

It was mad. They’d spend all that time together on a ship and when they finally did go on leave, they’d again huddle together doing whatever (usually) Thrawn’s next greatest plan was. It often involved things that did not at all meet the others’ expectations of a good planetside leave, yet they still kept coming along.

Mad.

Veers and Piett in particular had groaned about their current leave. They had both seen enough of Endor to never want to see a forest ever again. Thrawn had had to convince them that this forest only had trees, streams and moss, absolutely no small creatures with spears. Even after an afternoon of convincing, they both still warily looked around.

Thrawn, meanwhile, was studying the setup manual for the tents the way he’d normally a study a particularly difficult to read piece of art. Oh yes. He had insisted on tents. They could have at least rented a nice cottage to have some comforts, but Thrawn was always on about the authentic feeling of things. (“You feel a whole less authentic when there’s a bunch of those Force forsaken Ewoks on your ass and your escape pod is a smoking mess and your ship drilled itself into the Emperor’s new superweapon making it the laughing stock of the Rebels” Piett had raged, frothing at the mouth.)

The _authentic_ feeling wasn’t really turning Thrawn into a tent expert, however. Grand Admiral Thrawn, arguably the Fleet’s greatest thinker, was fighting to find the front and back of the tent and which part went where. He hopefully prodded at one of the tents he’d sort of put up, before it collapsed in a mess of fabric, not at all impressed with the glower Thrawn threw at it. Maximilian let out a long suffering sigh and fixed the tents, muttering about Navy personnel never being able to save their own butts outside a ship and certain blue commanders in particular having a deep love for getting themselves all tangled up in idiotic situations.

Tents finally up, they set up the rest of the camp. Thrawn had likewise insisted on an authentic fire maker, but it turned out a Chiss from a frozen wasteland that had never really camped couldn’t light a fire. Max, now massaging his temples, took out his blaster and fired a single shot into the dry wood. Fire pleasantly crackling away (Thrawn somewhat offended at the way it had been done, but not offended enough to not enjoy the warmth) they settled around it.

Piett seemed to have brought half of his alcohol collection from the Chimaera. Pellaeon was glad for it. Even with the fire, it was cold. The Rodian whiskey left a nice warmth in his belly as they waited for food to be ready. They ate in silence as darkness slowly fell. The planet did feel nicer than Endor. The darkness felt friendly, rather than suffocating. The night animals made a pleasing background noise. Pellaeon felt himself relax.

There was something to be said for spending the night outdoors rather than in the stuffy recycled air of a starship, Pellaeon mused as he put their dishes away. Even Veers and Piett were relaxing, Maximilian talking about his latest ground assignment while Firmus nodded and grinned at him, poking the fire every now and then.

He walked up to where Thrawn was sitting on a log, looking up at the stars above him. He sat down next to the Chiss, close in that almost-but-not-quite-touching way they’d somehow fallen into over the past few months. The silence between them was comforting and familiar and for a moment neither man spoke as they looked at the stars.

“I can see my home from here” Thrawn broke the silence with an unusually personal remark. His eyes were still on the sky, his face almost wistful. His leg touched Pellaeon’s and stayed there, a solid weight and welcome warmth. Pellaeon found his mind straying to forbidden territory, quick and attractive thoughts of grabbing Thrawn’s hand or rubbing his leg flying through his mind.

“There,” Thrawn said, pointing to a bright star somewhere to Pellaeon’s left. Pellaeon shook himself from his thoughts and looked up to where Thrawn was pointing. Immeasurably far away and yet, somehow, closer than he’d ever been to Thrawn’s past. Thrawn’s hand fell back down and rested lightly on his Captain’s upper leg.  

Heart hammering so hard he was sure Thrawn would hear it, Pellaeon wet his lips “Perhaps we can visit one day, sir” he said, hoping the Admiral didn’t feel his leg shaking under his hand. Thrawn studied him quietly, a hint of a smile playing around his lips. “I’d very much enjoy that, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo it makes me so EXCITED to see all the fic from the new Thrawn book <3 <3 Love to you all! Keep writing, keep creating and keep sharing :D (Yes, I read the book. Prefer old canon EU for writing, but love reading the new fanfic stuff *_*)
> 
> Next up is..........THRAWN/VEERS oh boy


	26. Technology - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lil humour inbetween. Thrawn has a Bad, No Good, STUPID day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot bunnies from chissprincess <3

He is awakened by the persistent beeping of his comlink. How odd. Had he not given orders to be left alone unless there was an absolute need for him to be on the bridge? The emergency alarms didn’t seem to be blaring. Groaning, he turns over and blindly gropes for his comlink. His hand comes in contact with the glass of water he keeps on his bedside a little too hard. Before he can even consider moving to avoid disaster (he won’t admit it, but he doesn’t really do mornings) the glass topples over, spilling its contents over his comlink.

He sighs and makes a mental note to replace the now silent comlink. He might as well get up now. Get some early work in. He has to blink as he looks at his alarm clocks (he keeps several, it’s good to be punctual). Surely, this isn’t right. He is never late. Ever. Yet the alarm clocks insist on merrily flashing the very late morning hour at him. Odd.

Somewhat flustered, he makes his way to his refresher. He stares at his own reflection. Urgh. Not the inspiring victory-is-ours Grand Admiral look he’s working to impress on the Chimaera’s crew. Not even close. He decides a quick water shower is just the thing. He’s late already, a few more minutes won’t hurt.

Relaxing under the warm water, he mentally plans out his day. The morning meeting is out, but perhaps it could be moved to the afternoon. Pellaeon is forever badgering him about doing lunch meetings anyway. He doesn’t get the human obsession of combining food and drinks with business, but he’s willing to give it a try. 

Further thought is interrupted as the water abruptly turns freezing. He is grateful for soundproofed walls because his squeak would not help with his image. Glaring daggers at the temperature controls, he begins to wonder if today would be a good day to stay in bed. He isn’t even surprised anymore when his toothbrush malfunctions and blows toothpaste everywhere. He opts out of giving his hair a quick trim just to be sure. Surprisingly, the lights turn off obediently when he orders them to.

He steps out of the fresher just to see a furry tail disappear behind his bed. Great. Did he somehow forget to close the Ysalamiri’s cage last night? It figures that today of all days he may need to round up his pets. Sniggles is clearly making himself comfortable under the bed. Another look at his clocks pushes him out of the door, surely the Ysalamiri won’t mess his room too much.

As he steps out on the bridge, he’s at least outwardly in control of the situation. Pellaeon rushes to him with that mother Vornskr attitude he seems to have adopted recently. “Good morning sir” he says, “is everything all right? I seemed unable to contact you this morning.” Even his voice is oozing the mother thing. Oddly touched, Thrawn looks his Captain in the eye. “I’m fine, Captain. Just a few malfunctions this morning.”

With that, he walks to his command chair. Which promptly gives way underneath him. Of course, the swivel feature decides to give up right at this moment, shooting parts towards Tschel, who just manages to dive out of the way. There is a shocked silence as he tries to arrange himself into a somewhat dignified position on the floor. 

“Please have my second chair brought from my quarters, Captain” he says, breaking the silence. Most eyes go back towards the appropriate consoles. Pellaeon hovers for a second (he looks ready to pick Thrawn up, which is again oddly touching) and then goes to arrange for the chair to be brought in. 

Opting to stand for now, he reads the night crew’s report. The letters of the dreadfully boring report swim before his eyes. Though a competent officer, Ardiff’s reports are notoriously boring. Unfortunately, the datapad doesn’t seem keen on breaking down so he has no choice but to read on. Really, someone should inform Ardiff the report is just a report, not a minute-to-minute description of the goings on at the bridge. Finally, he reaches the end of the report. The datapad gives an angry beep and the screen goes black in a shower of sparks. Of course. He only just manages to keep the annoyance from showing and puts the datapad down.

Pellaeon walks back in with the chair and eyes the slightly smoking datapad. “I wouldn’t recommend touching any other technology today, sir” he says, rolling the chair into his place. “Perhaps your study of the Ankonian art would be a safer endeavor for now?” He wants to argue at being told what to do, but realizes the Empire is at war and replacing broken datapads and chairs is an expense best saved. He nods at Pellaeon and exits the bridge again, trying very hard to not look as if he’s feeling defeated. Sometimes, the best offense is a strategical defense.

He expects the turbolift to get stuck halfway and allows himself a sigh of relief when the doors open at his destination. Good. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think they had Rebel saboteurs on board. He steps into his quarters and promptly stumbles over something. An angry chirp reminds him of the fact his Ysalamiri are roaming around. Reaching down to pet the upset Snookers, he murmurs some reassurance to the creature.

Nothing seems to have exploded in his quarters, which is a good start. He walks into his private command room, oddly empty without the chair. He hears the sound of quickly scurrying Ysalamiri, which worries him on a day like this. “Lights, full” he barks the command, sudden nightmare images of the amount of damage loose Ysalamiri can do coming to mind.

A glimpse of Sniggles running away with a piece of Kilik Twlight in his jaws is enough for him to turn around and go back to bed. He will have this ship searched for Rebel traitors. Scum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In memory of my laptop, RIP laptop, you were a good laptop.


	27. Army - Adult

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> General Veers meets a certain Grand Admiral

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a different pairing than the rest of these, I won't be offended if that's not your cup of tea! But if you're curious, read on for army x navy...Veers/Thrawn :D

He notices him as soon as he walks in. The new Grand Admiral. Of course, Army is always the last to be informed of such things, no need to keep the ground folk up to date on ship’s business. He normally doesn’t care much, anyway, with how quickly Vader gets rid of them it’s best not to get attached.

This one, though. He sits alone at a table, calmly observing the room around him. The glowing red eyes never fail to make people flinch, a feat the alien no doubt uses to his full advantage. He finds himself walking towards the man and sitting down before fully realizing what he’s doing.

Those red eyes focus on him, calmly looking him up and down. “General Veers, I presume?” he says, in a deep baritone, the Basic cultured but with a hint of something underneath. His face is carefully neutral as he speaks. Probably has had his fill of everyone wanting to take a look at the alien and Veers finds he can’t blame him. “The one and only, sir” he says, regretting his jovial tone as soon as the words are out of his mouth. No way back now, Max.

To his surprise and relief, the Admiral seems to relax just a bit more at that. He’s still studying Veers’ face when he speaks again. “I am Grand Admiral Thrawn, I’m honoured to meet the infamous General Veers.” 

Infamous, even. Not that he had any doubts or insecurities about his reputation amongst the Navy brass, but it felt nice coming from what he heard was the Emperor’s personal project. It felt even nicer in that pleasant voice washing over him. He is too much a trained army man to not notice the steel beneath it though. Careful steps. 

They have a few drinks. The Admiral appears to be very tolerant to alcohol, but he does seem to relax as the evening progresses. He even smiles at some of Max’ stories. Even so, he expects to leave here alone tonight. It takes every bit of his famous iron control not to show his surprise when the alien turns to him and speaks. “So, Maximilian Veers, I’d very much enjoy getting to know all of you. Why don’t you lead the way to your bedroom?” 

It somehow doesn’t even surprise him that much. This is a man very much used to getting what he wants, after all. Yet he hadn’t expected him to be this bold and forward. It only drove home further the fact this was a dangerous man to be around. Of course, that also makes it that much more exciting. He throws caution mostly to the wind and stands up, offering his hand. The Admiral quirks an eyebrow, seems to deliberate and then takes his hand. The blue skin is hot to the touch, he notices. 

They walk to Veers’ quarters, shoulder to shoulder. To the casual observer it may look as if they are just two off duty officers on their way to their respective quarters. He knows the importance of image, even if it’s more a navy than an army thing. Getting too close with this quiet, calculating alien can’t be good for anyone’s reputation, and as little as he’s ever cared about their xenophobic ways of thinking he doesn’t wish for either of them to get in trouble.

The calm is gone as soon as the door locks behind them. Though his face remains as impassive as ever, blue hands are suddenly everywhere and he finds himself shoved against a wall, none too gently. There’s a brutal strength in the alien body pressing up against him and for just a few seconds he has to fight the instinctive response to shove back. 

There is an amused huff coming from the Admiral as he finds no undershirt under the tunic. He clearly approves as he wastes no time nipping at Veers’ chest, layering kisses until he comes to the human’s ear. “Very good” he whispers in that deep baritone and damn it if it wasn’t the hottest thing said to him in a long time. 

Before he even has time to consider undoing that pristine white tunic, he is crushed against the Admiral who starts steering him to the bed as if he’s just some girl in one of Coruscant’s seedier places, a plaything. He grabs a fistful of blueblack hair and yanks. It catches Thrawn by surprise and that is even hotter than being told he looks good. Red eyes meet his and the alien gives an almost unnoticeable nod. Ever so slowly, his fingers move over the buttons of the Admiral’s uniform (gold! The Navy brass knows no limits). He pushes the tunic over broad shoulders and makes quick work of the equally white undershirt beneath.

Now, he feels more equal. The Admiral is muscled, more muscled than a lot of his Navy colleagues. The blue skin is smooth and very warm to the touch. He catches the dark blue lips in another kiss, taking his time to taste and explore. The alien tastes of the Forvish Ale he has been drinking, with something unique and wild underneath. Judging by the hardness pressing against him, he enjoys being kissed quite a lot.

They end up naked on his none too big bunk. He takes his time to study the other and does a quick equipment check, as it were. Different enough to be exotic, similar enough for him not to make a total fool of himself. Good. Thrawn studies him in return, still that same serene look on his face. It almost makes him wonder what it takes to shake that look off. Well, hopefully you’ll know by the end of tonight, soldier, he thinks. 

Before he can think any further, he’s pinned down by the Grand Admiral. He is definitely stronger than a human and he knows it. It won’t do. He may be too used to people bending to his will, impressed by his strength. Maximilian Veers, even the trained army man, decides to give him a taste of something else, ignoring the warning bells in his mind.

His firm bite to the alien’s bottom lip comes as a warning. It doesn’t shake him as much as the hair pulling did, but enough to push him over and reverse the roles. For just a few seconds he sees something in those red eyes that makes him regret his actions, but it’s smoothed away by amusement. The twitch of the alien’s cock tells Veers much more than the hint of emotion though. He almost smirks.

He meets those red eyes again, and this time Thrawn is the first to look away. “Good, I’d hate for you to think you can just have you way with me.” Before the Admiral can reply, he moves down his hand and gives an experimental squeeze. In all his years out in space he’s learned that what looks similar may not work similar. He is rewarded with a shudder of the hot body beneath him, however.

He rearranges himself to stroke the both of them together. Clumsy at first, it has been a while after all, he soon falls in a rhythm. The Grand Admiral’s hands move over his back, stroking and exploring. A firm hand lands in his neck and his lips are caught in a kiss. It’s messy and wild, a far cry from the collected man he met in the mess. His higher body temperature is especially noticeable in the heat of his mouth and the hot, slick length of his cock against Veers’. It is far more erotic than it has any right to be.

Neither man lasts long. It never works out as the cheesy love stories, yet it’s so much better at the same time. Veers comes with a groan, his release splattering on the blue skin beneath him. Thrawn makes a sound halfway between a hiss and a growl, covering the General in hot and rather copious amounts of semen. He can’t resist licking some of it off of his fingers, testing its alien flavor. Thrawn watches him quietly, and he hopes it’s just the heat of him that makes his cheeks feel warm.

Thrawn seems to fully lack the ability to even be close to awkward. Normally, Veers would make a comment on how the next shift is early and see about getting some sleep. This is not normally, though, and hasn’t been since he first laid eyes on the alien. Thrawn seems insistent on cleaning them both up and then even moves to pull Veers close to his side. He’d protest more normally, but he cannot deny it’s nice to curl up to a warm body for a change.

As he feels his eyes become heavy with sleep (sleeping in the arms of a Navy Admiral, Maximilian? You must be getting old.), he knows he’d have to ask now or regret it forever. “How did you know I wouldn’t run out when you asked to be taken to my bedroom?” he says, curious and a little worried about the reply. Thrawn is silent and just when he thinks he won’t be getting an answer, the alien actually chuckles.

“Humans have always been easy to read for me, General Veers.” 

It isn’t at all reassuring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop woop. Throw me plotbunnies in the comments! I am very open to ideas :D I'll be out of the country a few times the coming month (southern Germany in 2 weeks, Berlin in August, Copenhagen and Stockholm in autumn) but I'll try not to keep you guys hanging for so long anymore!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM


	28. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, it takes a blizzard to melt the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warm up that ran with me. Just long talk bout nothing!

He said it would be a bad idea. He had argued quite forcefully, in fact. He wasn’t sure what species Thrawn was, but he was sure there was Alderaanian mule in him. Had to be. He’d listened to Pellaeon’s comments, had noddied and aah’d and hmm’d….and here they were, together in a tiny shuttle on their way to Hoth.

Hoth, of all places.

Of course, according to Thrawn the mission was of the utmost importance. Parck had warned him about Thrawn’s “art tendancies” as he’d put it. Pellaeon had waved it off. Surely, a man appreciating art would be a lot nicer to serve under than a man very likely to choke you.

A certain trip to Tatooine had changed his mind on that really fast. It turned out this art appreciation was doing absolutely terrible things to Pellaeon’s blood pressure. Sure, it was nice that the Grand Admiral was at least less likely to choke him (he thought so, anyway), but he did seem to insist on all sorts of impossible schemes that’d only drain the Empire’s—

He was abruptly shaken out of his thoughts by the shuttle making a violent lurch. Struggling to stay upright in his seat, he reached out to the status display. “Lost the aft propulsion engines” Thrawn said, his voice as calm as ever as his hands ran over the shuttle’s controls in an attempt to bypass the power.

Had he not argued they should at least use one of the new A-class shuttles? Probably. Had Thrawn listened? Was deep space black? Gritting his teeth, he reached for the manual controls to attempt to steer the craft as it set course to the planet’s atmosphere. Losing propulsion engines never made for a nice landing. Losing propulsion engines on an old royal class shuttle made for an even less nice landing.

Thrawn hissed something very vicious sounding in a language Pellaeon had never heard before as he hit the console in an uncharacteristic display of anger or frustration. Somehow, it was soothing to see him express himself for once. Red eyes focused on his face for a few seconds as the Grand Admiral exhaled. “Strap in” he said, his voice level and calm as always. “The descent may be rough.”

The first thought in his head was one of confusion. Who exactly had set a Bantha loose on the Chimaera, and how had it been allowed to run over him? He should really have a talk with the head of the security squad. While at it, he should have a talk with maintenance as well, because he was sure he felt a freezing draft going over his face, and he was already so sore… Maybe a nap would help with that.

The universe wasn’t as kind as to grant him a nap, though. A sharp slap to his cheek brought him back to reality. “I do apologise” a vaguely familiar baritone voice from somewhere over him “but I must ask you to stay awake. That is an order, Captain. Stay awake.” The order settled somewhere at the back of his mind. Stay awake. He could do that.

He was aware of movement around him now and a quick jolt to his neck with a peculiar hissing sound. As everything around him moved into focus he realized they were no longer flying and seemed to have survived the rough landing somewhat intact. Next to him was the Grand Admiral, a hypospray in his hand and a distinctively worried look on his normally so neutral face. Despite the chaos of blaring alarms around them, somehow Pellaeon found himself focusing on the Admiral’s dishelved hair before noticing the streaks of bright red covering his uniform.

“You’re hurt” he wheezes, surprised to even hear his voice coming out. It makes his head throb more. Thrawn, to his utmost surprise, smirks slightly. “A most accurate observation, my dear Captain, though not as badly as you” he says, putting the hypospray down and taking a knife from his belt. This sets off alarmbells in Pellaeon, old legends of beings with glowing red eyes flashing through his mind. He isn’t xenophopic, on the contrary, but what does he know about Thrawn anyway?

The Admiral seems to sense his unease and puts a soothing hand on his shoulder. “I’m just going to take those straps off of you and move us somewhere comfortable.” It’s odd, how the words ‘move us somewhere comfortable’ keep bouncing in his head. He isn’t sure if he’s imagining the quick squeeze to his shoulder as Thrawn cuts off his restraints with smooth, practiced moves, but he decides to think it’s real.

Thrawn steps back as the restraints fall free and Pellaeon can finally try to move his arms. It seems to go over reasonably well, probably thanks to whatever was in that hypo. His legs are another story. “Oh, kriff” he says, not even bothering to censor himself. Broken ankle for sure and some cuts from shrapnel. He is aware of red eyes studying him quietly. He realizes that Thrawn probably isn’t entirely up to date with human first aid. “I’ll live” he says, to ease that tight look on his commander’s face. “Find a splint if you can”.

Thrawn seems more at ease with that reassurance and rummages through the first aid kit. As he fixates Pellaeon’s ankle with the splint, his hands are unusually hot on his leg. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Thrawn either. Pellaeon manages a weak smile. “I’m afraid humans aren’t really made for this kind of weather, sir” he says, fighting to keep his teeth from clattering. “Indeed.” Thrawn says, his voice distant and distracted.

If Pellaeon were honest, being stranded on a frozen planet was pretty kriffin bad, but being stranded with his commanding officer he’d only known for a few months and who never seemed to truly show himself was even worse. Thrawn is still carrying that distant look, eyes slightly narrowed while he seemed to consider his surroundings. It was a disconcerting, to say the least.

Thrawn seems to come to a conclusion and straightens up. “We will need to stay warm,” he says, his voice calm in the way doctors are calm before delivering bad news. It does not soothe Pellaeon’s concerns in the least. “I suggest we move to the bunk. My body temperature is higher than a human’s. I can keep us both warm until they come for us tomorrow.”

Had he not been cold down to his bones he’d have protested, but Pellaeon stuck to a vague grunting noise. This, apparently, worries Thrawn even more for he was suddenly gently hoisted out of the chair. Leaning heavily on the Grand Admiral, they make their slow way to the bunk. The very narrow bunk. The very narrow bunk he is about to share with his commanding officer in a scene one would find in the cheap holopad novels. It was almost funny if he weren’t so darn cold.

At least he isn’t the only one that’s uncomfortable. Thrawn too seems unsure how to proceed. As awkward as it is, he really would like to get warm so he forces himself to meet the glowing red eyes. “I suggest we take off our snowgear” he says, hoping Thrawn will think the tremor in his voice is due to the cold. Thrawn gives him a curt nod. There’s another awkward moment as Thrawn has to help his Captain, but they eventually end up under the thermoblanket on the bunk.

If it weren’t so cold, Pellaeon thinks he could enjoy being spooned by the larger man. It’s not territory he really wants his thoughts to stray in. Sometimes, he curses his own fascination with the unknown. What does he know about the man behind him? For all he knows, Thrawn could be strictly in Zabrak men only. He is hyper aware of Thrawn pressed up against him, one arm firmly wrapped around his chest. It’s quiet. Uncomfortably so. As the warmth of the Admiral’s body slowly spreads to Pellaeon’s, he can’t really think of anything to say. What does one discuss when sharing a bunkbed with your commander while both of you are in none too flattering regulation underwear?

It is Thrawn that breaks the silence. “You were worried about me, back there, with the knife” the alien Admiral says it without any emotion, which somehow makes it that much worse for Pellaeon. The hot shame washing over him does nothing to warm his bones. He knows better than to think he can hide his blush from Thrawn. Yes, he had been worried. And it had been unacceptable. He knows a lie would be caught and his mother didn’t raise a coward. “I was,” he says, feeling even worse as the arm around him twitches as if wanting to move away. “But it was only because I don’t feel I know you.”

This seems to surprise Thrawn, for his arm stills again and Pellaeon feels him relax. He doesn’t expect an answer, but is pleased to get one, a far different one than he was expecting. “I don’t always know how to act around humans.” Thrawn says, slowly, clearly weighing every word. Pellaeon smiles, even if Thrawn can’t see it. “Don’t worry, we don’t always know how to act around humans, either” he says. He hears a short, hastily cut off sound behind him and realizes it was a laugh.

They lapse into silence again, but it’s a much more comfortable one. Pellaeon finds his eyelids growing heavy. Maybe he can take that nap now, when he’s warm and his ankle isn’t bothering him too much. He might as well make the best of it.

It’s again not to be. Thrawn gently squeezes his arm. “Please stay awake. I do not know everything about humans but I do know you should not sleep while I don’t know if you injured your head.” Pellaeon groans. His head is starting to hurt again and he just wants to close his eyes for a minute. If only the Admiral would let him, he’d feel so much better.

 “You know, the first humans I met were Corellian” Thrawn says, his deep voice becoming a focus point for Pellaeon. “I thought all humans were like them. Loud, sometimes too curious but with a good heart. I’ve always sought our Corellians since.” As he talks, his hand absentmindedly strokes Pellaeon’s chest. Pellaeon hardly dares to breathe lest he breaks the spell.

“And you were right. My species keeps everything to themselves. The Corellians always told me that. Perhaps it is time I listen to them…” As a storm rages around their craft, as he is pulled firmly against a blue chest, Thrawn tells him about an even colder world than Hoth, inhabited by a proud and ancient people.

Maybe they can visit it one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, I'm back from all my travels <3 I'm behind on all your lovely fanfics and comments so working to catch up. Thanks for your continued support, it means the world to me. Every single reader, kudos and comment is appreciated! YOU make all the difference in the world, never forget that ^^  
> I now have a Ko-Fi if you wish to buy me a coffee, it fuels me while I work to change my life and write to support myself :) ko-fi.com/sithyfic -- send me a prompt if you give me a coffee yeah?


	29. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companion piece to "Cold"
> 
> Thrawn is an idiot  
> But he has good friends.

He had known, somehow, that he’d regret coming planetside for shoreleave. Pellaeon was forever in his hair about needing to relax and needing to be seen relaxing. Even if he held on to Chiss opinions about senseless recreational activities, he couldn’t deny the importance of such bonding opportunities to humans.

Thus, he finds himself blinking at too bright sunlight. The sun on this planet seems unnaturally harsh, prickling uncomfortably at his skin. He feels himself rooted to the spot. Even the air feels hot to breathe in, filling his lungs with a heavy heat. Bonding is good with a human crew, he reminds himself firmly. Not like he was really wanting to run back into the shuttle. Of course not. That’d be unbecoming of a Chiss. He just…would like to think this through.

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by Piett thrusting a pair of glasses at him he seems to have procured somewhere from the depths of his shoulder bag. He almost asks why, then realizes the lenses are tinted. He slips them on and is pleased to find he can at least look around now and observe. The planet seems nice, he has to admit. Sandy beaches surrounding several clean enough looking lakes with various members of his crew already in them. He studies them as they lounge around the water. It’s fascinating to him how humans can throw themselves so entirely in doing nothing at all. Their postures are relaxed. They float on various floatation devices, laughing at each other.

Admiral Piett is eyeing him meanwhile, frowing slightly. “You may wish to take off your tunic” he says, “they’re not really made for this kind of weather and you’ll overheat.” He frowns at Piett in return. The smaller Admiral has left his tunic in the ship and even rolled up his trousers, going barefoot in the sand. The thought of that sand between his toes makes him feel uneasy and he barely suppresses a shudder. He has to admit he is already starting to feel uncomfortably warm, however. He is tempted to say he will be fine, but one glance at the human next to him (he raises an eyebrow, his lips are pursed) makes him change his mind. He knows Piett to be a very strong negotiator.

He knows Piett would love for him to take off his boots as well, but he figures the tunic will do. Baring his arms to the sun feels wrong, somehow. Oh, he is used to a sun blazing down on snow, sure. But it was never so hot, stabbing at him with rays of sheer heat. If it weren’t for Piett gently taking his elbow and almost (the pressure is light, the human’s fingers oddly cool against his skin) but not quite dragging him, he’d have stayed in the shade of the open shuttle hatch.

Pellaeon is happy to see him at least. He beams, not wearing more than regular underwear and undershirt. There is sand on his legs and Thrawn has to fight the ridiculous urge to dust the human off. He straightens abruptly as Pellaeon speaks to him. Would he like to join the Captain in the water? The thought of getting wet and then having sand stick to him seems even worse. He politely declines and is surprised to find himself regretting his words when his Captain’s smile falls for a second. Before he can put too much thought in that, Pellaeon is swept off in the mass of humans in the lake, that General Veers splashing him with water. He will need to keep an eye on that one.

For now though, he busies himself with wiping sand off of his desired chair. It really does get everywhere. He sits down slowly, his knees feeling oddly weak. Just wiping some sand away has him breathing hard. Must be the recent battle stress. Perhaps there is some truth in Pellaeon’s insisting on taking a vacation. He settles in the chair, eyes moving over the lake to take in the view. He’s almost comfortable, if it weren’t for his clothes now sticking to him. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths. As much as he dislikes admitting it, he should have listened to Piett and removed his boots.    

He isn’t sure if this is even normal. He has never experienced heat like this before. Is this how humans like to spend their free time? Soaked in their own sweat with sand sticking everywhere? He has been around humans long enough to know they like unusual things (balloons come to mind, he has never let it shown but he’s still not entirely sure about those) but this seems far even outside their norm. If it weren’t so darn hot, he’d be able to think it through much better. It only seems to get warmer, the air seemingly thickening around him. He should rest his eyes a bit. The sounds of the others fade out. His last thought is, oddly, stupidly, about the happy look on Pellaeon’s face when he walked up.

His next sensation is an incredibly uncomfortable one. There are cool (too cool against his hot skin) clothes in his neck, on his head, around his wrists. _Veo to_ … It takes him a moment to gather his wits and realise he spoke those words out loud. “Welcome back,” says the familiar voice of his Captain, relief evident in his voice “we thought we’d have to get you dragged all the way back” Pellaeon babbles on as he finds his surroundings come into focus again. He’s in the lake, his feet in the water and various bits of wet fabric on his body. At least someone saved him some dignity and left his underwear on.

Pellaeon is standing next to him, his hand on his shoulder (a comforting weight, he notes even now). On his other side is Piett, face half I-told-you-so and half terrified. The unexpected third person is General Veers, who is just coming back with another slopping wet t-shirt. He replaces the one already on Thrawn’s neck. Of all three, he seems the calmest. “I take it you’re not from a hot climate?” he says, casually making conversation as if cooling down overheated Admirals is all in a day’s work. Thrawn decides he likes the man and makes a non-committed noise in return. The General makes a clucking noise with his tongue. “Figured you weren't, do us a favour and don’t make me carry your unconscious bulk out in the water again while these two hover around you like mother vornskrs.” With that, Veers steps back and observes him, eyes keen and bright with a slight glint of relieved humour. “As for the verdict, you’ll live, sir.”

Pellaeon’s hand on his shoulder tightens at that, and he finds himself relaxing into the touch. There is something to be said for human bonding, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry but.....Piett is the mom on trips. Bag with endless snacks, supplies, holochess, books....SOMEBODY has to be the sensible one.  
> I'm VERY for smol Admiral protecting tall Admiral mmm yes.


	30. Movie night - General

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aliens getting confused at human concepts: my fave!  
> A little Max/Firmus as well, to top things off.

**Movie night**

Pellaeon smiled in satisfaction as Piett stepped back from the noticeboard after pinning a piece of flimsipast on it. It had taken some favours and creative poking around the Chimaera’s databases, but they’d found a hoard of old Corellian holomovies and a more or less abandoned storage space to turn into a theatre. Their note proudly announced the showing of The Monster of Coruscant for tonight. With some of Piett’s slicing skill, they’d even set the kitchen droids to make popcorn.

Of course, the real challenge would be to get Thrawn to join them as well. He had made attempts to be more present outside battle situations but he generally felt out of place in larger groups of humans – even if he’d never admit to it outright. Veers had suggested they market the movies as being just another art form which he was sure to appreciate, but it wouldn’t quite fly for the sort of cheesy movies they were planning to show.

Sometimes, privately, Pellaeon thought Thrawn perhaps considered all humans to be just a little _odd_. Still, he found himself outside Thrawn’s quarters to invite him for the movie night. Straightening his uniform tunic, he settled on the quick attack tactic and rang the door chime. As the door opened to let him in, he didn’t allow himself time to think and marched forward quickly.

Thrawn was seated in his usual post, various holos of art around him. He gave a nod to Pellaeon. Swallowing nervously, he wasted no time in getting to the point. Stun them, run circles around them, take your victory: exactly the sort of thing Thrawn was always pushing for. “We have a film viewing tonight at 1900 hours in storage space 3F, and I—we would really like you to join us.” Thrawn slowly turned to look at Pellaeon. Sensing the excuses coming, Pellaeon hastened to add “It will be really good for crew morale if you go, sir.”

Victory. It was the one thing Thrawn had a hard time disagreeing with. His brow furrowed, he seemed to think it over. Pellaeon delivered the final blow quickly before he had more time to think. “It’s typical Corellian culture, sir” he crossed his fingers behind his back, calling these holos culture was stretching it. Thrawn let out a soft laugh. “I see I have little choice, Captain. Very well, I’ll join you.”

As everyone around them settled in on the chairs and couches they’d borrowed from the Chimaera’s various lounges, there was no sign of Thrawn. Pellaeon felt a stab of disappointment. These holomovies might not be the best what Corellia or humanity had to offer, but he’d have liked to spend more time with Thrawn outside work.

And, of course, improve crew morale and all that stuff. Of course.

Just as the lights dimmed, the door to the cargo hold opened one more time. Two glittering red dots made their way to the front and Thrawn sat down next to Pellaeon. As usual, his concept of personal space seemed to differ wildly from that of humans in general, but Pellaeon didn’t mind the leg pressed up against his at all. “I’m glad you made it, sir” he said, voice hushed. Thrawn gave him an almost smile in return and settled in to watch the movie.

The movie began well enough. Thrawn had warily sniffed at the popcorn and had tried a handful and didn’t seem to hate it too much. He seemed a bit restless as the movie progressed with the main hero easily took down at least 30 bad guys. He even made a soft sound of disbelief as the main hero went on to wrestle with a rancor. Evidently, action movies weren’t Thrawn’s thing.

As the lights came back on, Pellaeon turned to Thrawn who was looking at the end credits with a somewhat confused look on his face. “Did you enjoy it, sir?” Pellaeon asked, already knowing the answer but forcing himself never the less. Thrawn turned to face him and Pellaeon knew a lecture was coming. Veers, seated on the other side, even leaned back in his chair as if ready to watch the show.

“The science in this is questionable at best” Thrawn said. In the stunned silence that followed, he merely lifted an eyebrow and eyed each one of them as if daring them to challenge him. “Humans do not possess the strength needed to fight a fully grown rancor. I was unable to find a deeper meaning, there was no lesson to be learned from this movie and above all--” He abruptly stopped as he saw the looks on their faces. “I’m glad you enjoyed it that much, Admiral” Piett spoke up, unable to hide his smile. Thrawn seemed taken aback at that, but then nodded. “See you next week, then” Piett said as he and Veers made their way out of the room.

Thrawn didn’t even have a chance of protesting.

Thrawn continued to show up weekly at 1900 sharp, but he always found something to criticize. Piett got so tired of it, he asked Thrawn if his species were familiar with the concept of watching a movie because it was fun. Thrawn looked possibly scandalized at the idea of watching something without a lesson or deeper meaning, but declined to explain. He never stopped coming, though, settling himself slightly too close to be professional next to Pellaeon every night. He had even taking a liking to popcorn.

Thus they found themselves once more in storage room 3F, this time ready for “Journey of the Shanarra”, a movie based on the disaster with the _Shanarra_ shuttle crash landing on Corell. This time around, Thrawn was quiet. He didn’t even take any popcorn and just stared at the screen. Pellaeon was glad this movie seemed to be more to his liking. He knew it had been a good idea all along to invite him.

As a particularly dramatic scene was played out on the screen, Pellaeon eyed Piett and Veers on the other couch. To the casual observer they looked as if they were each closely watching the movie, but Pellaeon saw the vague outline of Veers’ arm around Piett’s shoulders. They could all be so lucky. Thrawn was still completely silent next to him.

When the lights came up, Pellaeon braced himself for Thrawn’s reaction. However, he still stayed quiet, still watching the screen with that same puzzled look he had been wearing. “Are you all right, sir?” Pellaeon said, feeling worried at the most unusually silent alien sitting next to him. Thrawn frowned, seemingly at a loss for words. “I am just…very confused at human behavior, Captain” he said, still staring at the credits rolling on the screen. “This was clearly a terrible disaster in the history of your planet and you…made a holomovie of questionable quality out of it.”

Pellaeon made to explain that humans could commemorate in various ways, but Thrawn didn’t give him the chance. “In addition, some liberty was taken with the passage of time in this movie, that descent once the engines failed should not have taken an hour and a half.” Pellaeon was stunned for a few seconds but then caught a telltale glint in Thrawn’s eyes he’d seen before when he was running circles around his enemies.

“You’re just debating these movies for debate’s sake, aren’t you?” he said, trying not to sound tired. Thrawn did that half smirk that suited him so well. “Captain, to debate a keen mind is the highest of pleasures.” He nodded at his Captain and got up, hand casually brushing Pellaeon’s shoulder as he went. “Same time and place next week? I shall look forward to more of your planet’s movies.” With that, he calmly walked out of the room.

Well. Morale seemed to be on the rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for those that have never seen Trek, Enterprise series has several delightful 'movie night' scenes in which a Vulcan learns humans quite enjoy questionable science (Dr Frankenstein) AND popcorn. I liked the idea too much not to run with it with our faves :)
> 
> I'm aware Tim Zahn got a mob of angry fans about his use of 'hot chocolate' in the Star Wars universe, but I happen to like popcorn (: Feel free to read (your favourite spacefood here) instead, I won't be offended.


	31. In sickness and in health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff for the holidays?  
> Fluff for the holidays!

He woke up in the middle of the ship’s night cycle, coughing that cough he’d been dreading since someone took aboard a bunch of Porgs infected with some sort of flu that was very contagious to humans. He tried to muffle his coughs as to not wake up Thrawn, who was sleeping next to him. Science had progressed a lot, yet they were still hard pressed to find a cure for the common cold. This particular strain seemed unusually stubborn, half the senior staff had been down for a few days already. Pellaeon had written a firm reminder about putting all off-ship souvenirs through decontamination with a particular add-on for Porgs and had hoped he’d escape with health intact. It seemed the flu had had other ideas and had finally settled on him, as well. 

Sniffing miserably, he pulled the covers closely around himself, Thrawn still blissfully unaware. Thrawn had proudly informed the crew he was immune to most strains of human colds, entirely unaffected by the glares thrown at him. Some part of Pellaeon felt it’d only be right if his coughing would wake the Admiral up, but he also seemed to have a very selective hearing when he slept. Of course he was able to use that _superior_ Chiss hearing only when it suited him. Must be nice to not get sick and hear your crew talk about you from the other side of the room and your hair never getting out of place.

Right. He did have a tendency to get a little irked at things when sick.

Five minutes of not being able to get comfortable later, he decided to get up and at least get some work done. Steeling himself, he got out of bed and made his way to the desk. He regretted the decision almost instantly as his head swam and he had to grip the desk firmly to avoid falling over. Ugh. He’d normally jump at the chance for a few days off to catch up with some new holonovels, but he was supposed to be prepping for the arrival of Chancellor of….what was the name of the planet again?

A violent sneeze put an end to his thoughts and to Thrawn’s sleep. Thrawn was sitting up in bed, a look of mild shock on his face. “Is there anything Corellians don’t do loudly?” he said, extracting himself from the sheets that he’d gotten entangled in. Pellaeon meant to say something snappish back, but instead a new round of coughing started. He made a pathetic wheezing noise at the end which he hoped Thrawn could interpret as “you miserable piece of Chiss and your perfect health and hair”.

Thrawn had meanwhile carefully stepped closer. He kind of hovered at Pellaeon’s side, clearly unsure about whether or not to touch him. “I didn’t think I was contagious” Pellaeon said, trying to sound challenging but somehow mostly sounding pitiful. Thrawn caught up on that and awkwardly patted his shoulder. Pellaeon could almost see the wheels in his head spin which didn’t always lead to the best things. He wanted to speak up but found himself coughing again, sinking back in his chair and feeling rather sorry for himself.

Thrawn observed him with narrowed eyes and seemed to draw a conclusion. “Wait here,” he said “I have just the thing to make you better.” He walked off to their closet, rummaging around and muttering to himself in Cheunh. Pellaeon was content to just watch him from the chair, feeling more cold and miserable by the moment. Thrawn let out a triumphant “hah” and emerged with several blankets. Hmmm.

He began arranging the blankets over their bed as if working on an art piece. An impressive mountain of blankets sat on the bed when he stepped back and admired his work. “Uhm,” Pellaeon spoke up, clearing his throat “I am not sure I’ll be able to sleep under all that.” “Nonsense” Thrawn said. “I know humans are just as capable of sweating. You’ll sweat it out in no time and you’ll feel right as, what is the word, right as rain again.” He made his way back to where Pellaeon was sitting, that particular _don’t argue with me, I know what’s right for you_ look on his face. He sighed and held out his hand for Thrawn to help him up.

Thrawn supporting him definitely felt nice. What was less nice was the fact he still felt cold, but Thrawn’s normally warmer body now felt cool to him too. He tried to will the flu away by considering the work waiting for him on the Chancellor from…what was it again…but only succeeded in sneezing more. Blast.

He allowed Thrawn to fuss over getting the blankets just right. Once he was firmly tucked in, he wondered if he’d ever be able to get out or if he’d get smothered slowly under the sheer weight of them. That would, technically, cure him though he doubted it was what Thrawn had in mind. Thrawn nodded in satisfaction. “Now stay there, you’ll be just fine” he said, as he stepped in on the other side.

Pellaeon, somehow, doubted he would be. At least Thrawn’s arm sneaking over his chest was nice.

He didn’t know how he had managed to sleep when he woke up, but he had somehow thrown off most of the blankets. It seemed he had also swallowed a bunch of sand if the feeling of his throat was anything to go by. Thrawn was already up and working quietly on the comm unit. He turned when Pellaeon croaked at him. He lifted an eyebrow – at Pellaeon’s croak or the thrown off blankets, or both – and slowly got up. As he reached Pellaeon, he put a gentle hand on his forehead.

He made an odd hissing sound as he pulled his hand away. “This always worked for me,” Thrawn said, sounding almost offended “you just seem worse.” Pellaeon croacked in what he hoped was an exasperated manner. He got another raised eyebrow out of Thrawn at least. Thrawn re-arranged his pillows so he could sit up, which made him feel a little better. The Grand Admiral paced for a bit, then seemed to brighten. He walked off towards their small kitchenette, saying something about his mother, Csilla, an old family recipe and _clearing you right out_. It wasn’t in _any_ way comforting.

Pellaeon heard various pots and pans being banged together in the kitchen. Thrawn’s cooking was actually rather nice once he had realized humans generally preferred their food a little less spicy than Chiss. He didn’t like relying on droids and would often cook their meals from scratch, an almost unheard of rarity nowadays. Perhaps he should give that old family recipe a chance. Even if the words ‘clearing you right out’ had him worried, he really could not afford to take time off this week. Plus he missed being able to talk, he’d found a lot of talking worked to keep Thrawn on his toes.

A short while later, Thrawn walked back into the room, a bowl of steaming soup in his hands. It seemed soup really was a universal cure it all. Pellaeon relaxed into his pillows. Soup would be just the thing to make him feel better. He sniffed it just to be sure, but couldn’t smell the usual spices in as far as he could smell with his blocked nose, so he figured he’d be OK.

Never did he wish to eat his words more than after the first sip of soup. It burned down all the way to his stomach (and would probably burn on the way out, too, he thought sourly). Granted, it did clear up his throat, but he doubted anything could survive in the sheer heat in general. He also seemed to be emptying his sinuses all at once, which somehow judging by Thrawn’s satisfied nodding seemed to be the goal of the soup. Wonderful. Nothing like starting the day going through the Chimaera’s yearly supply of tissues.

It would have been relieving maybe, if he could just stop sneezing now. Or stop feeling like his brain was about to leak out. Thrawn started to go from looking smugly satisfied on fixing another grand problem, to looking worried about this next unexpected _human_ reaction. At a wheezed request to get milk, he scurried from the room to grab a bottle of blue milk.

“Do me a favour,” Pellaeon said, as he finally found his voice again and Thrawn was punching in an appointment to see the next available doctor “never try to cure me with tried and tested Chiss home remedies again. Ever.”

Thrawn had the manners to at least _look_ like he was sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all have wonderful holidays spending them in whichever way you prefer <3 
> 
> Guess who's working tomorrow and the entire next week AND January 1st? It's me. Comfort me with prompts maybe x).


	32. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn kicks butt and Pellaeon is grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mild torture/abuse, not graphic but it's there, skip this chapter if that type of situation makes you uncomfortable!

He let himself hang limply in the crudely made rope bindings that were keeping his arms raised above his head. He forgot how long it’s been since they got creative and tied him up. His captors got _creative_ a lot. He forgot how long it has been since they got onto the Chimaera, too. He only knows he hasn’t told them a single thing, no matter how creative they’d gotten. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out, though. He finds himself wishing they’d just shoot him through the head more and more often.

How long has it been, anyway?

It had started as any other day. He’d gotten to the bridge and had gone over the night crew reports. The new ensign, Richardson, had helpfully brought him a cup of caf. If only he had been a little more wary. However, new crew often tried to get into favour with their commanding officers and he _was_ more approachable than Thrawn. He therefore didn’t think twice and drank the cup down in one big gulp.

He had been a fool to be trusting, as Richardson would be happy to tell him in the days afterward. He never got a clear answer as to how exactly Richardson had managed to get him off the ship – or perhaps he had and had simply forgotten – but he knew he’d threatened to shoot the Captain if anyone as much as moved. He’d also planted thermal detonators on his route to escape, or so he said. Of course, Richardson himself argues it’s best if Pellaeon tells him what he wants to know, as no one could be bothered to look for him anyway.

He refuses to believe it, and told him nothing. Richardson and his band of followers only get more _creative_ and so he finds himself here, tied up and unable to move without causing bursts of agony in his arms and shoulders, hoping for a quick end.

He is only half aware of commotion outside the room they have been keeping him in. More _creativity_ , no doubt. He straightens as much as he can. He refuses to meet them with his head down. Corellian stubbornness is an incredibly hard thing to get out of someone, as his captors have found too.

The door suddenly flies open and he forces himself to keep looking. It’s Richardson, but he looks incredibly harassed, his hair and eyes wild. Their eyes meet and somehow he knows this is the end. He plans to meet it with as much dignity as he can muster up. Richardson moves quickly and stabs him with a hypospray. Huh. A merciful ending after all. Richardson spits at him and as he turns to leave, he looks back at Pellaeon. “You win this round, but you’ll never win the war. You know this right? You know you—“

Richardson doesn’t get to finish the sentence. A stormtrooper enters the room and knocks him out with one blow to the head. The stormtrooper stands over the prone form for a few seconds, then calmly kicks the unconscious form out of the way and turns towards Pellaeon. For a moment, one agonizing moment, Pellaeon thinks it’s a trap.

Then the stormtrooper takes off his helmet to receive intense red eyes and blue skin. Thrawn. Thrawn with a look on his face Pellaeon has never seen before and never wants himself to be the target of. He realizes it is hatred.

Thrawn wastes no time in cutting the ropes holding him up. He finds he cannot stand up, feeling strangely feverish with the injection site of the hypo burning up. Thrawn supports him easily, as if he weighs nothing at all. Those red eyes move over his body and Thrawn sighs softly as he looks at the marks on his chest and legs. He doesn’t speak, he knows not to, not right now. Very gently, he puts one of Pellaeon’s arms over his shoulders and mostly carries him outside.

The next days are a blur. Bacta can cure a lot but not Corellian flu directly injected into the host. He’s not aware of much but a stream of soothing words which he later won’t be able to tell are Basic or some foreign language. The hands that touched him earlier are still there, but they feel cool to the touch now. He’s vaguely aware of a cool cloth on his forehead, a hand squeezing his and that constant, deep voice. He drifts in and out, confused if maybe he’s imagining it.

He’s lost track of time when he awakens again, more lucid this time. He’s in a bed, a more comfortable one than the standard issued cots. Slowly turning his head to take in his surroundings, he is relieved to find the more or less familiar sight of the Chimaera’s medwing. As he turns his head to the other side, his breath catches. Thrawn is sitting in a chair next to his bed, slumped over, clearly asleep. His hair is tousled and his uniform is wrinkled. It’s clear he has been sitting there for a while.

Pellaeon slowly turns back, settling into the pillows. He knows he has a long way to go, but feels confident somehow things have changed for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaay guess who's back from Denmark and Sweden and has a million works and comments to catch up to? This dude!


	33. Nightcap - Explicit PWP

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was chissprincess' birthday yesterday. I wrote her porn with not even a hint of plot, as we do. Everyone gets to enjoy. Whelp!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very NSFW! Very PWP! Much Wow!

He found himself unable to sleep lately. It wasn’t even anything specific. Serving on a stardestroyer under the Empire’s remaining Grand Admiral would come with a big set of worries in any situation. Serving under the Empire’s remaining Grand Admiral who had a particular talent for getting himself in seemingly impossible spots and increasing his Captain’s grey hairs.

In fact, that latest stunt with that piece of art he absolutely had to get had made Pellaeon grind his teeth so much he was considering seeing a meddroid to have everything replaced by steel. While he was at that, he should—

“You are grinding your teeth again” a smooth voice cut into his thoughts. Okay. Yes. Part of the headache was getting romantically involved with said Grand Admiral. Of course, he wouldn’t change it for the entire galaxy, but he couldn’t deny the alien had a certain talent for trouble.

He was one more jolted from his thoughts by Thrawn, but this time by getting his lips caught in a possessive kiss. Thrawn moved back, red eyes searching his face. “You seem…distracted, Gilad.” He said. “I can’t have you distracted.” Before Pellaeon could even begin to protest, his lips were claimed again.

Without ever noticing Thrawn move, he found his wrists firmly gripped and pushed down over his head. Indeed, it hadn’t taken Thrawn long to figure out that deep down, Pellaeon had developed a _thing_ for being ordered around by the Grand Admiral. The hold on his wrists was gentle enough not to bruise but strong enough to make his heartrate speed up. His cock twitched and he had to swallow against his suddenly dry throat.

Thrawn, meanwhile, lightly nipped at his neck (just under where his uniform collar rested, of course, they were always careful). Nuzzling at the human’s chest, he paid particular attention to his Captain’s nipples. Pellaeon squirmed under his mouth, sharp teeth scraping over a hard nipple. He was aware of an urgency in Thrawn’s movements which made him almost painfully hard.

Thrawn let go of his wrists as he moved down, tongue dipping in his bellybutton, teeth nipping and no doubt leaving marks. Pellaeon squirmed more, increasingly aware of how hard he was, his member leaking onto his stomach just out of the reach of that teasing mouth. Thrawn grinned up to him, that lazy, careless grin he’d never show outside the bedroom. He knew how much Pellaeon loved that particular look. The alien teasingly nudged against his weeping dick, murmuring appreciative words in his native language.

Pellaeon whimpered.

The red eyes blazed harder at that. That grin never leaving his face, he slowly, _agonizingly slowly_ , licked the entire length leaving a trail of hot wetness. Pellaeon had been delighted to find out Chiss’ body temperature was higher than that of humans. That heat was being put to use by Thrawn’s skilled tongue swirling, catching the droplets of moisture. The Chiss hummed in appreciation. He had a taste for humans, he’d once admitted. Pellaeon now knew it was literal, too. The man had an insane skill for using his mouth in the bedroom.

Pellaeon fought not to move his hips. He knew he’d pay for it if he did. Thrawn, however, seemed to be in an agreeable mood. Hot hands grabbed his hips and Thrawn took him almost whole, throat muscles working around the human’s cock. He lost his battle to keep his hips still and thrust up helplessly. Thrawn tightened his hands slightly, but didn’t move away. Instead, he settled into a rhytmn, alternatively sucking and using his tongue.

Hands gently squeezing his hips again as if giving him permission, Pellaeon thrust in and out of that impossibly hot mouth, careful at first but gaining an urgency as Thrawn took him even deeper. He knew he wouldn’t last, not with that talented tongue and the sheer heat of him.

As he exploded in Thrawn’s mouth, all he thought of was stars and the heat and the moment of being right there.

He slept well that night.


End file.
